


Monsters

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Ethics And Existentialism In Hell [1]
Category: Marvel, X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship/Love, Government Experimentation, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Violence, Slow Build, Some Plot, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 21:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: After the X-Men rescue a brainwashed mutant from a government facility, Jean Grey takes on the freed inmate as a patient without knowing exactly what she's getting herself into by doing so. Helping a man regain his humanity is hard enough when he's not blood-crazed and armed with metal claws.





	1. Violent Intent

**Author's Note:**

> AU that (mostly) takes place in the universe of the X-Men movies, though I took elements from the comics, too. It turned out *way* longer than I thought it would be; initially I meant it to just be a quick one-shot of some romance and a little angst between Logan and Jean, but it totally got away from me and next thing you know Sabertooth is in the back of my mind begging to be set loose on them.
> 
> I just want to put this out there, but the idea of Logan showing up/being rescued and doesn't talk in the beginning is not mine. I thought it was an interesting angle to add when I came across a couple fics that used it (both by the same author; I forget who, but their works were great) and I also liked Hugh Jackman's cameo in Apocalypse where Logan is set free and butchers his way through Stryker's men. So the beginning part of this work was influenced heavily by that sequence; I thought it was a great moment where Jean gives him back some of his humanity, so I took that and ran with it. The other thing from Apocalypse is that, like at the end of that movie, Mystique is one of the X-Men.
> 
> In the movies, especially X2, I always thought Famke Janssen had about a million times more chemistry with Hugh Jackman than she did with James Marsden, and come on, Scott is a bland, boring character. BUT, I didn't want Jean to be shallow or unfaithful or whatever, so I pulled from the comics with Emma Frost being a lot of the reason why their relationship ended. I love to hate that bitch.
> 
> I haven't read a lot of Marvel comics that feature SHIELD, so they're not tagged because I only really mention them, but I figured if they were smart about it that Sabertooth would be interred in The Vault (despite the fact that Venom escaped from The Vault more than once).
> 
> As always, please don't skewer me. I love X-Men (comics and movies both) and I like writing for this fandom, because Logan's emotional baggage lends itself to a lot of interpretations, at least for me. Kudos/comments greatly appreciated as always :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This INCREDIBLE fan art was done for me by miraeth (http://archiveofourown.org/users/miraeth/pseuds/miraeth or http://miraeth.tumblr.com/), so I switched it in for the pretty bland one I had at the beginning before.

 

_*Jean?*_

She almost jumped out of her skin when Charles’ voice brushed her mind. She was in the middle of a sentence when it happened, too, so the blue dry-erase marker jerked down the white board and left a clumsy line. The twelve students she had this period in the afternoon were all staring at her.

“Um… your homework tonight is to read chapters eleven and twelve in your textbooks and answer the questions at the end of each chapter. I also want you to find a science article online about unhealthy cell growth to share tomorrow.” Jean didn’t even wait for them to leave the room before sitting down at her desk and channelling her mind. _*Is something wrong, Professor? Has Magneto escaped from prison again?*_

_*No. During my most recent search for emerging students, I located a massive signature of a mutant projecting pain from his mind. It was emanating from the location of a military installation in Canada. Scott and Kurt have previously searched the area for evidence of illegal experiments on mutants, but they found nothing. Apparently it wasn’t as empty as we thought, and there must have been some sort of shielding in place to prevent telepaths from discovering it. This is quite unnerving… if they could remain covert for so long and the mental scream is what alerted me to their presence, they must have perpetrated something truly horrendous.*_

_*We’ve searched more than a dozen potential leads on mutant labs, Professor…*_

_*I learned of the facility six years ago, and from Scott’s report I believe the center of operations is in an underground bunker. It’s located in the immediate vicinity of the dam at Alkali Lake.*_

* * *

 

The senior team and the junior team were both sent on this excursion. The only one who stayed behind was Hank so that if Jean got incapacitated they wouldn’t risk both of their doctors getting injured. After the inaccurate recon report from almost six years ago and the fact that Charles had only detected the “scream” for a very short time, they were going in blind.

“Okay.” Scott loudly cleared his throat as Remy and Ororo prepared to land in about five minutes. She could tell her ex-boyfriend was addressing the junior team. “I know I already said this, but I can’t stress it enough. This mission carries a serious risk. You _cannot_ wander off from the team for any reason, and if I order you to evacuate back to the jet, you evacuate back to the jet, no questions asked. We have very few details about what we’ll deal with in there. Your job is to retrieve any electronic data, and that is _it,_ unless I specifically order you to back us up.”

They touched down in the snow without incident and the senior team immediately fanned out, minus Remy, who would stay with the jet. They located two potential means of ingress, and even without opening the doors Jean and Emma were able to lightly probe with their telekinesis and discover beyond any doubt that they plunged into the earth.

[Junior team, approach the exits topside. Senior team, proceed down to the first level. Remember, everyone. Extreme caution,] Scott reminded them over the comm.

Scott, Emma and Kurt were at one while Jean, Ororo and Mystique secured the other. Once the two halves of the junior team were in place they descended down into the “research” facility. The air was damp and smelled like mold and rust, but it was noticeably warmer the further down the steps they got as if they needed further proof that something disgustingly inhumane must be taking place under the snow. Jean was getting a slight headache, too, but she figured it was the stale atmosphere and harsh industrial lighting.

Even on the first level of the lab, she could already feel in her gut that something had gone horribly wrong. The other two X-Women were wound with tension, so Jean knew they were feeling it, too. The massive turbines that were part of the dam’s inner workings didn’t help - they were loud and distracting, making it hard for her to concentrate as the trio paced slowly down the grimy metal decking.

“Do you sense anything yet?” Mystique asked softly.

“Not much,” Jean admitted, shaking her head. “I can’t even feel the torture that Professor Xavier noticed.”

After crossing the broad hall of turbines, they encountered a large room full of chemical tanks and a second flight of stairs. Moving deeper into the lab, Jean’s sense that something was amiss grew more overwhelming as they reached level two. Beyond the stink of mildew and old rust, creeping down the hall a terrifying third smell got stronger with every step until she realized it was from a massive amount of blood.

“Cyclops, this is Jean,” she whispered into the comm.

[Go ahead,] Scott answered.

“We’ve reached the second floor of the bunker. I haven’t seen anything yet, but it smells like a lot of blood was spilled nearby.”

[What else do you sense?] her ex-boyfriend questioned after a second’s pause.

Jean reached out with her telepathy and probed, finding only a single consciousness that was difficult to get a fix on. There was something blocking her, she realized, but more than that she couldn’t detect a single civilized emotion or thought from this mind. It was all ruthless instinct and outrage stemming from fear and torment. _Hunt. Kill. Find prey. Hunt prey. Kill. Kill… KILL! Destroy prey. Find nest. Lick wounds. Hunt. Kill prey._

“Someone with the consciousness of an animal,” she finally answered. “I don’t even know if it’s _not_ an animal.”

[Hold position for now, Jean. We’ve hit a dead end at a control center, so once junior team arrives to extract the computer files we’ll rendezvous with you at your location.]

While they waited, Jean tried to get a better fix on the beast’s mind. Pain, anger, fear, bloodlust. Hunger and exhaustion. There was no higher-level thought process, personality or desires beyond the basic instincts of self-care and revenge. The owner of the consciousness had probably been trapped here for several years and severely tortured; she couldn’t even determine if they had a name or what their gender was.

The other three members of the senior team arrived. “The animal still there?” Scott asked softly.

Jean nodded: “It’s hard for me to get a fix, but I know the creature is extremely dangerous in its current state of mind.”

“Right.” Scott frowned around his visor. “Junior team, status?”

[I’ve accessed the main database, Cyclops,] Kitty’s voice answered over the comm. [We’re downloading every file we can find. So far it’s all encrypted heavily, but I can crack it once we get back. Pyro’s keeping an eye on the security monitors and… well, you tell him…]

[It’s a bloodbath,] John’s voice cut in. [Every hallway I can see on the cameras is full of dead soldiers. They look like Freddy Kruger got after them, man.]

“Do you see anyone alive besides us?” Jean immediately queried.

[Uh… yeah, yeah there’s a tall skinny guy around the corner and down the hall from you. He’s got all kinds of crap strapped to his body and it’s hard to tell from the monitor, but I don’t think they’ve been feeding him.]

“Why?”

[He… um… cut off the arm of one of the dead guys and he’s chowing down. Ugh.]

“Can you reach his mind?” Scott turned to briefly look at Emma. Even after almost a year, it still made Jean’s heart clench - not because she necessarily wanted Scott back, but because Emma Frost was a good 70% of the reason their relationship had ended and she clearly didn’t feel bad about it at all.

“No, I’m not powerful enough.” The blond woman shook her head. “There’s something about his skull…”

“I might be able to,” Jean volunteered, squashing the childish feeling of superiority. She didn’t lower herself to that petty level while they were home at the mansion, and she wasn’t about to start doing it now in the middle of a dangerous op. “Let me go towards him first, I’ll give the signal if I think he’s about to attack me.”

Slowly, cautiously, Jean rounded the corner, gloved hands tense at her sides. If she absolutely had to she could use Phoenix to stop the brainwashed mutant, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

When he came into view, Jean realized that John’s description was a gross understatement. The man was roughly two meters tall, with long arms and legs. Various sensors and battery packs were hanging off his frame and attached to some kind of helmet through several bundles of wiring. He was crouched in a puddle of drying gore, wearing only a shredded pair of green army pants, and viciously devouring the limb of one of his victims. His hands and feet were large and further accentuated his state of extreme starvation; the only other people Jean had seen so thin were in old pictures of holocaust inmates. Even from several meters away, she could count his ribs under his loose skin, but she could tell he still possessed an absurd amount of strength despite the abuse he’d suffered.

Jean had taken all of two careful steps towards the carnage when the prisoner’s head jerked up, loudly sniffing and turning her way. _No fear,_ she reminded herself, standing still as two eyes with blown pupils fixed on her own. _No hostility._

The man slowly rose up, tossing aside the ulna he’d been gnawing on and causing flecks of blood to scatter across the wall from his fingertips. He didn’t stand at his full height, but hunched in an attack position, teeth bared in a predatory snarl. A ball-chain with dog tags jangled against his chest and two ribbed cables had been stabbed into his gut from something on the equipment belt.

Slowly and threateningly six foot-long metal blades slid from between the knuckles of his fists. Jean could only stare at the weapons, realizing that she hadn’t been lying to herself: she wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest. A wave of sadness washed over her. What had they done to this poor man?

“It’s okay,” she found herself saying, holding out both hands with the palms up to show that she wasn’t a threat the way you were supposed to do with a scared dog. “We won’t hurt you, I promise. We came here to help you.”

“ _Hhhhhgrrrrrrr,_ ” the mutant growled, drooling strings of blood from between his teeth. She couldn’t tell if it was his blood or was just in his mouth from eating.

“It’s okay,” Jean repeated, never breaking eye contact. She forced her body language to relax so that he would (hopefully) be convinced that she had no violent intent towards him. “We want to bring you someplace safe.”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of comprehension in his mind or on his face, though he stopped snarling and cocked his head slightly, taking another deep sniff. Jean’s words hadn’t reached him at all, but she must have done something right because the message seemed to be getting through all the same. She smiled out of kindness and encouragement as the claws snapped back up into his forearms and he took a few hesitant steps towards her.

Jean scanned his thoughts - pain from being starved, curiosity, everything he detected in her scent. (She realized right then that he was a feral.) The prisoner read that she was female, physically unarmed, and was unusually calm. But there were still no human emotions to be found.

Jean allowed the wild mutant to creep steadily towards her, weariness and suspicion written into his every action. She knew he needed to meet her on his own terms if she was going to establish any amount of trust. Not wanting to startle him with words, she reached out to Scott psychically.

_*Scott, you should go back to the jet and let me lead him on my own. He’s not violent right now, but he’s very fragile.*_

[Okay,] the team leader affirmed before sending a series of orders to everyone else across the comm.

The prisoner was within a meter of her now, circling and sniffing in order to size her up more thoroughly. Eventually he stopped in front of her and she could see his emaciated body shaking from malnourishment. Jean gently reached up to his head and tugged the helmet free, dropping it to the floor at her side. A single claw extended from his left fist and he shed the rest of the gear with a few deft slices before retracting it again.

Almost immediately after he’d carelessly wrenched the feeds out of his lower torso she saw the wounds knit themselves closed in real-time. They must have been pumping some kind of chemicals or hormones into his body, because his pupils slowly began to constrict as well, showing green irises that were tinged brown flaming with psychological trauma and the agony of chronic hunger.

Jean lightly flipped around one of his metal tags: one side read **WOLVERINE** , while the other read **LOGAN**. She raised her eyes to meet his again with a smile.

“Hello, Logan.”


	2. The Wolf Of Alkali Lake

After rescuing the wild mutant from Alkali Lake, it was determined that they couldn’t situate him in the isolation room of the infirmary during his rehabilitation. But there was no other location they could contain Logan where he would be safe and require minimum supervision. The only other option, then, was to put the former inmate into a bedroom on the teacher’s dorm wing and have someone monitor him constantly. Unfortunately, the only person he would let within five meters of himself without panicking and threatening violence was Jean.

“Remy still thinks this a bad idea,” the kinetically-charged mutant muttered as they led an exhausted but still dangerous Logan up the metal halls of the underground level.

“And your suggestion for a different solution is…?” Scott answered rhetorically.

“Maybe chain him up outside like a dog,” John grunted sarcastically.

“That’s enough,” Ororo rebuked him sternly. “He needs our help and we will do everything we can to give back his humanity.”

“The guy’s practically slobbering like a rabid beast!” John protested. “You really want to sleep near _that?_ He’ll tear all our throats out!”

“Hey, knock it off,” Bobby snapped, giving his best friend a shove. “We’ll be on the opposite side of the school from him. Plus he’ll be locked up… right?”

The 17-year-old shot Jean a nervous glance as he voiced the question, and she nodded to reassure him. “He’ll be under direct supervision at all times.”

Jean was forced to pause when Logan stopped following her and began sniffing loudly. He wasn’t alarmed or panicked, though - she could feel that something had caught his interest. _Interest,_ she smiled to herself. _The first human emotion I’ve gotten from him, and quicker than I thought, too._

Still snuffling loudly like a wolf tracking prey, Logan turned down the hallway and began moving confidently towards the door that would open into the garage. _It’s the oil and gasoline,_ Jean realized with an amused grin. _He knows car mechanics._

She didn’t make any attempt to stop him from striding into the motor pool, just watching as he slowed and carefully examined every vehicle present. Logan finally stopped when he came across Scott’s motorcycle, slowly reaching out to run his big hands over it. Something about it was familiar to him, and Jean felt the emotion swell in his mind as soon as his long fingers rested on the frame. Physical contact was jogging his brain.

“Logan,” she called out gently, causing his head to whip towards her as though he’d completely forgotten she was there. Maybe he had. “Come on, you can play with this stuff later. We need to get you food and a bed, first.”

His head cocked to one side questioningly, still oblivious to the meaning behind her words, so she projected the concept of nourishment and rest into his mind. Immediately the bike was abandoned and he let her lead him again. Only Piotr stayed to help Jean keep Logan secure while the rest of the X-Men used the elevator first; the big Russian was the only one who could potentially take on the wild mutant and not be immediately torn to ribbons.

“Was Kitty able to decipher any of the data before we left the lab?” she asked as the three of them waited.

“No.” Piotr shook his head. “There were some paper files that we recovered, but none of them were about him.”

“Okay,” Jean nodded. The door opened and they shepherded Logan inside. “Once we get him situated in his room, you don’t have to guard anymore. As soon as Kitty has anything decoded that pertains to him, I need you or her to come tell me, okay?”

“Yes, Doctor Grey.” Piotr had been with them long enough to be more than fluent in English by now, but he still rolled his “r” sometimes, making her title sound like “doktorr.”

Once on the third floor, Jean and Piotr flanked Logan in case he got violent or tried to flee. It wasn’t really necessary, though - the halls had been cleared out prior to their arrival and they deposited him safely into the empty room without incident. Once Piotr was gone and the door was closed Logan visibly relaxed, crouching in an empty corner with tremors coursing his stick-like form. There were so many things he needed - a haircut, a shave, a good sleep, a freaking _bath_ \- but food was at the top of that list. Luckily, Ororo hadn’t wasted any time, so it was about three minutes before she arrived with a tray for him.

It was a balanced meal, because the students were highly encouraged to eat healthy food, but Jean suspected that Logan didn’t give a damn about that. She had barely set the red plastic tray in front of him on the floor when he started scooping it up to his face, not seeming to care that his hands were dirty or that there was disposable silverware available to use. It took less than a minute for him to wolf down everything and he swallowed the carton of juice in a single gulp. His hazel eyes found her again.

_More._

Logan hadn’t voiced the need, but it projected loudly from his mind. Jean wondered briefly if this was how raising a child felt, to teach everything from scratch and feeling like a single word was incredible progress. She smiled and nodded.

“Okay,” Jean affirmed, sending a mental request to Ororo to bring a second tray for her patient.

Despite the bone-weary exhaustion rolling from him in waves, Jean quietly watched as Logan got to his feet and thoroughly surveyed his new living space, sniffing and feeling everything in sight. Truthfully, there wasn’t much - a bed, an armchair to relax in, a desk, two empty bookcases. Jean didn’t think Logan even knew how to read, but she didn’t say anything.

The attached bathroom caught Logan’s interest, though, because he was instantly baffled by the mirror over the sink. It was amusing to watch him stare at his own movements in the reflective glass, giving it a hostile snarl at first before cocking his head and then waving his hands and claws around. His silly behavior only lasted a few minutes until his next helping of food arrived, though, and he gobbled everything just as fast as he had the first time. After that Jean briefly showed him how the sink was supposed to work, and once he tried it for himself she detected that the entire concept of the bathroom in question had been unlocked in his mind. Well, good. That made several things much less complicated for her.

Jean offered him a bar of mild soap and a pair of clean sweatpants, then waited in the armchair and almost fell asleep to the sound of the shower running. He hadn’t bothered to close the door behind him, either because he didn’t care or it didn’t occur to his untamed mind, but she didn’t rectify that because if some emergency arose she could more easily reach him.

Jean almost dozed off for the fifth time when she saw Logan’s reflection appear in the foggy glass; he’d pulled on the sweatpants and a few inches of claw slid free of his left hand. She watched, fascinated, as he started trimming his face expertly. Somehow the muscle-memory of shaving had worked itself free in his subconscious, helping him act slightly more human even if he didn’t understand why yet. Jean sat patiently as he worked his jaw, eventually leaving a slight layer of dark scruff along his cheeks while his chin, upper lip and neck were scraped smooth. His hair was still shaggy and sticking out at all angles, but even trimming his beard and having a clean face made Logan look like an entirely different person.

His eyes caught hers in the mirror, reflecting the same layer of predatory instinct he’d always had, but Jean could swear she saw a faint spark of humanity returning to his gaze for a split second.

Even though his dog tags had said **WOLVERINE** , his mindset and behavior seemed much more canine to Jean. She could feel it in his emotions as he stared at her from the bathroom: _Fed. Found nest. Female - pack member. No danger for now. Hunt prey tomorrow. Find mate soon, rear young, make pack bigger. Territory mine now. Territory for new pack._

Jean was amused by this; clearly, Logan thought he was a wolf, even standing over a sink while having just finished cleaning himself and shaving. Almost instantly she felt guilty for those thoughts. He’d been savagely tortured to the point of believing himself a wild animal, no longer able to speak or comprehend words. He relied entirely on his senses and instincts, and the extreme psychological trauma made him a danger to everyone and himself.

Logan slowly came out of the bathroom, his borrowed sweats slipping down slightly because he was too starved for them to fit. Jean was surprised that he didn’t protest when she reached out and pulled the strings to fasten them more securely, but he was already quite used to her presence. She was trustworthy and familiar to Logan, even after such a short time, because she’d never given the slightest hint of violence or malicious intent. He could smell the caring in her, even if she hadn’t been a doctor, and her calmness soothed him.

Once she’d fixed his sweatpants, Logan climbed onto his new bed and curled up into a ball the way a dog or cat would. Lacking a tail, his face became obscured by his arms until only his thick black hair was visible.

Jean dimmed the lights out of consideration for him until he was barely visible. Hank would have something ready by tomorrow evening that would alert whoever was watching Logan if he got out of bed during the night, but for now she was forced to just sit in the armchair and watch him sleep. She’d done this for patients before, so it wasn’t as if this was new to her, but that didn’t make it any less exhausting. _And_ Jean would spend all of tomorrow with him, too, because he was afraid of everyone else.

 _We need to get you some more friends, Logan,_ she thought dryly to herself. _I can’t babysit you all the time. I have kids to teach and case studies to write. Hmm, maybe I could send one in about you… then again, anyone else involved with those experiments would have an easier time finding you, and that won’t do any good._

Jean startled herself awake the next morning, immediately panicking when she remembered she was supposed to have been keeping an eye on her patient, but to her relief he was perched in the center of his bed and observing her calmly. Calmly? She’d never use that word to describe him yesterday, but he seemed very relaxed and content for the moment.

“Good morning, Logan,” Jean smiled, standing up from the chair to stretch her back. Even knowing that he couldn’t understand her yet, she knew it would help to talk to him anyway. “How did you sleep?”

She was already getting an easy grasp of his body language; his eyebrows twitched and he cocked his head when she confused him by speaking. Jean still smiled at him.

“You look a lot better,” she commented, briefly ducking into his bathroom so that she could check the size of his ragged army pants. Ororo or someone else would have to get clothes for him; he certainly couldn’t wear nothing but sweatpants and Jean didn’t dare entertain the thought of bringing Logan into a crowded store. “I’ll have someone bring up breakfast for you and once you have some real clothes I’ll take you to meet the professor, okay?”

Logan’s eyebrows twitched again, and she realized that they moved the same way a dog’s ears did to convey mood and impulses. Jean was also starting to get the impression that even before he’d been tortured and brainwashed he’d probably been very physical and not a big talker anyway.

Three trays of scrambled eggs and bacon were provided for him, heaped until the food was almost falling off, while a fourth was brought for Jean with a much more reasonable portion. They ate together in silence, though it wasn’t at all uncomfortable or tense. Logan, understandably, had a complete lack of table manners, but Jean didn’t mind. She could already see that the nutrition from the previous night’s meal was helping him regain his musculature, and the breadth of his shoulders and chest suggested a lean but very tough body when he was at his peak. Between that and his shiny metal claws, Logan was a fearsome predator, but Jean still couldn’t summon an ounce of fear. It wasn’t his fault that he was this way, and seeing him already regaining his humanity was oddly thrilling.

“While we’re waiting for your clothes, I can trim your hair,” she offered once they’d finished breakfast. She frowned to herself and tried to convey the idea to him telepathically. Both eyebrows raised as far as they would go, but he seemed indifferent to the concept. Jean smiled as she pulled the desk chair out into the room and settled him in it, finding a pair of scissors in one of the bathroom drawers. “Just hold still,” she urged. “I’m alright at this, but not fantastic.”

Jean lost track of time, snipping away in silent content as Logan held perfectly still for her in the chair. It hadn’t looked it down in the bunker, but after he’d showered his black hair was very fluffy and soft in her hands. It reminded her of a stuffed animal or a puppy. As she worked, Logan occasionally made a rumbling noise deep in his chest, and it had startled her the first time because she thought he was growling. After the second one, though, Jean realized it was offered out of comfort and friendliness. She could feel in his mind that he was pleasantly enjoying her taking care of him.

The thought struck her as very strange - God knew how long Logan had been imprisoned at the complex under Alkali Lake, incessantly experimented on and tormented at the whim of twisted scientists, but despite knowing her for less than 24 hours he had already grown a wealth of trust and even affection for her.

Jean thought she remembered reading once that animals could smell everything you were thinking and feeling, but even knowing that she was still surprised. This wild mutant considered her part of his family unit, his “pack,” blindly allowing her to act with his wellbeing in mind. Of course, that was actually true being that Jean was a medical professional and Logan was essentially a high-risk psychiatric patient, but she still knew that if she’d been in his situation it would take her much longer to start recovering.

Jean snipped off the last few stray hairs that she’d initially missed before brushing the loose fluff from his bare shoulders. It was a very basic cut, the kind that made someone’s head look a bit like a square, but it wasn’t awful and it would almost certainly be more comfortable for him.

Logan must have sensed that she’d finished, because he stood up without bothering to dust himself off the rest of the way and entered the bathroom. She watched him run the tap for a moment to wet his hands, then push them deliberately backwards through his hair until he was satisfied with it. Now, with it sticking up like that, he looked even more like a wolf.

Jean chuckled a little at his personal sense of style, but didn’t judge him for it. She swept the remaining debris from his trim away from his chest and arms, noting that his ribs were significantly less visible. That was an excellent sign, and she was astounded by the power and speed of his healing mutation.

Logan’s hazel eyes flicked her way briefly, still soft with calm acceptance of his rescuer as well as the idea of safety that had been totally unknown to him before. Jean couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself over this. Working at Charles’ school hadn’t provided her with too many difficult or interesting cases (which was good, considering that the majority of people here were _children_ ), but her current patient was already responding absurdly well to his new environment and her caring methods.

A loud knock on the door startled her, and Logan reacted by flicking his claws free and snarling ferociously. She could feel that he didn’t recognize the scent outside and automatically classified them as hostile.

“Who is it?” Jean called out, worried that she would further traumatize Logan if she had to stop him from attacking someone.

“It’s Bobby.” There was a pause. “Ms. Munroe sent me up, I have, um, clothes and stuff for the new guy.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, not getting up to open the door. “Bobby, he’s still very dangerous right now and he probably will be for a while. Please set everything down in the hall and go back to class so that I can calm him down, and tell Ms. Munroe that I said thanks.”

“Sure.”

Once Jean was sure the student had gone, she projected calming thoughts to Logan so that he could start to relax before retrieving several bags of new clothes for him. She removed each item one at a time, letting him see them clearly before reaching for the next one. Logan loosened his stance some and retracted his weapons, then approached to more closely inspect the garments. Plain white socks that may or may not actually fit onto his huge feet, three packages of generic plaid boxer shorts, jeans, work pants, short-sleeved cotton undershirts in white and gray, two hoodies that zipped in the front and four casual button-shirts in neutral colors.

Touching them, like with the motorcycle last night, seemed to bring Logan some amount of understanding, because he immediately and shamelessly stripped off his sweatpants in front of her to start pulling on some of his new attire. Jean turned away out of professionalism, and when she looked back again he was rolling the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows. She couldn’t help but grin as she pulled the store tags away, which he’d been oblivious to, and then sized him up again. His hair and scruff tamed, the brand-new clothes - Logan finally looked like a human being if it weren’t for the hard animal perception in his sharp eyes.

“Well, once you’ve found yourself again you shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a mate,” Jean commented, remembering his thoughts from yesterday night. “Now that you’re fed and clean, you’re actually a really handsome guy, Logan.”

His eyebrows quirked slightly at the sound of his name, but beyond that she could tell he still didn’t recognize the words. Jean fought back a sigh. In spite of his already astounding progress towards remembering his humanity, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that Logan still didn’t have a very long road ahead of him.


	3. Instinctive Repairs

After two days and several mishaps, Jean wished it was closer to the end of the school year than mid-February, because Logan refused to let anyone near him without her around. It was determined that Hank would teach her classes for the time being, but that couldn’t be a long-term solution and they all knew it.

It was Saturday, which meant no classes and most of the students would be poking around the school because it was too cold to go outside. Jean was nervous about the idea, but Professor Xavier had _strongly_ suggested to her that this would be a good time for Logan to explore the mansion on his own terms and become familiar with its inhabitants. Most of the younger students were either watching TV or hanging out in their rooms, she knew, so there wasn’t much danger from them. She actually led Logan down their dorm halls first to get it out of the way, explaining as they walked that those were more “nests” and they didn’t belong to him.

Jean moved along at his pace, not interfering as he sniffed out each door and invariably determined that none of them hid any danger. In his mind, she noted, Logan immediately understood the concept: the students were all “cubs” in his new pack, and the “cubs” must be protected at all costs. These were their “nests” and he would accept it without question.

Down on the second floor, Jean showed Logan the many empty classrooms, but they didn’t interest him. Kurt was in his office working, but despite his looks he was one of the least threatening people she knew and her patient left him unmolested. Scott, though, was also in his office, and Logan immediately postured with growls and puffing up his chest. His canine brain saw the team leader as a rival, a fellow “alpha,” and he couldn’t ignore that.

Thankfully, though, Scott had grown up with dogs as pets before he’d come to the school, so he just sat passively in his rolling desk chair and relaxed his body to show that he wasn’t accepting the challenge. It wouldn’t have been a good idea for him to do that anyway, of course - Logan’s huge claws would’ve ended that fight in a matter of seconds. The wild mutant accepted Scott’s answer with a triumphant snort, making Jean roll her eyes as they finally turned to move on.

Down in the computer lab, Jean wasn’t even slightly surprised to see that John, Bobby, Piotr, Jubilee and Rogue were all clustered around where Kitty was typing furiously at one of the terminals, her expression focused and her eyes not blinking. Piotr noticed them first, offering a wide smile of friendliness. “ _Dobre utra,_ Logan,” he greeted. “He is looking much better, Dr. Grey.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, returning his smile. “How’re we doing with his files?”

“It’s slow going,” Kitty answered, not looking away from the screen. “This is one of the most heavy encryptions I’ve dealt with. Somebody didn’t want this information getting out.”

“Have you found anything yet?”

“So far the only important fact I’ve seen is that Logan was held there for at least sixteen years.” Now, Kitty did turn to face her, eyes heavy with disgust and sadness at what had happened to Logan. “Dr. Grey, I… I’m scared to look at the files once they’re decoded. God knows what they did to him down there.”

Jean nodded in sympathy. “It’s alright, you don’t have to. Once you’re done, just come get me and Hank so we can read them.”

John must have muttered some sarcastic comment at that, because Bobby smacked his friend upside the head with an annoyed glare.

“Well, he sure _looks_ a lot different,” Jubilee butted in, changing the subject. “Who would’ve guessed that under all the blood and fur there’d be a really cute guy?”

“Jubes…” Rogue groaned, looking exasperated. “That’s like getting the hots for a dog.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” the energetic student protested with a shrug. “C’mon, admit it. You think he’s gorgeous, too.”

Rogue didn’t say anything and just shook her head.

“I dunno, he doesn’t do much for me,” John joked, smirking and folding his arms across his chest.

Jean rolled her eyes before stepping in: “I want to be very clear with the six of you right now: I know you were on the mission when we rescued Logan, and I know he looks much more civilized, but he isn’t. For your safety, and for his, don’t provoke him. Don’t make loud noises or sudden movements when he’s around, and don’t come within four or five feet, either. Yes, Mr. Allerdyce, I’m talking to you,” she nodded, staring pointedly at the pyrosensitive student. “This is _not_ a joke. Logan can’t think independently or tell the difference between a prank and a legitimate threat, so he’ll kill you without question if he thinks you’re attacking him. Do you all understand?”

They rapidly nodded, though John was grumbling something and looking at his feet.

“Good. I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

After that, Jean left them to their own devices and began guiding Logan again. He was oblivious to the exchange that had just occurred except for the few times his name had been said. She guessed she should be thankful for that, though; John had been acting very rude.

They entered the library. Jean flashed with worry when she saw Logan’s whole body stiffen, thinking he was reacting to a perceived danger, but then she saw wide-eyed awe on his face. The wild mutant slowly approached the nearest bookshelf and began walking along it, skimming his left index finger across the many spines. Jean couldn’t help but smile. Something in this mass of books called to him and made him start to remember. Logan poked around through the organized tomes until he apparently discovered one that was familiar, because he pulled it out and immediately sat on the floor. He turned it over several times in his big hands, not quite recalling its exact function.

Jean slowly settled next to him, leaving a few inches of space so that he wouldn’t get uncomfortable and looking at the title:  _The Art Of War_ by Sun Tzu. She couldn’t help but chuckle. It certainly seemed like the sort of thing he’d read when he was in his right mind.

 _Stories,_ Logan’s brain reminded itself briefly, the second thought Jean had detected from him so far that was explicitly human. He climbed back to his feet with the book tucked under his arm and began wandering again, occasionally recovering other tomes from the shelves until he was carrying a stack from his belt to his chin. Jean gently took some of them from his arms to help carry them, and they briefly returned to his room to deposit them in one of the empty bookcases.

“I guess you _do_ know how to read,” Jean mused, glancing to where Logan was pacing along at her side. As always, he was completely silent, even in size 12 combat boots that were usually issued to the X-Men.

As much as she felt uncomfortable admitting the fact to herself, given that Logan was a patient and he’d been in the mansion for less than a week, she did think that he was quite pleasing to look at. In his current state, which was jeans and an unzipped gray hoodie with the boots in question, he appeared tough but comfortable, already back to a healthy body weight with a natural strength obvious in his limbs and chest. Logan seemed like he should be a logger or a construction worker, and the look suited him.

Jean ushered him to the first floor. There was an actual cafeteria, but they had a kitchen too in case the teachers wanted to make their own food or one of the kids needed a quick snack. Logan was immediately searching every corner of the room, sniffing enthusiastically as he pulled open each cupboard and drawer to inspect their contents.

Jean stifled a laugh as she watched him pile three bottles of Dr. Pepper, a frozen package of hotdogs, a pound of uncooked bacon, some leftover french fries that obviously belonged to someone else and an unopened container of turkey cold-cuts onto the counter. Logan immediately started wolfing down the raw bacon, swallowing the pale fatty strips two at a time and almost not bothering to chew. The fries and one of the sodas were next, and then he set about tearing open the pack of sandwich meat. Jean wasn’t sure why, because she’d already known this to be the case, but for some reason Logan’s complete lack of meal etiquette bothered her a lot more than the fact that he’d just eaten uncooked meat.

Eventually he came to the hotdogs, which were still frozen solid and not easily consumed. He ended up breaking chunks off with his teeth and swallowing them whole, popping the cap from his second soda once he’d devoured the entire package. Then, with an unreadable expression, Logan slowly gripped the third Dr. Pepper in his fist and almost hesitantly extended it towards Jean. She was dumbstruck by this action for a long moment.

“Oh, um, thank you Logan, but I don’t like soda,” she eventually stammered.

His head cocked slightly and one brow twitched, but he wasn’t offended and simply set the bottle back onto the table indifferently. She felt another memory surface as he was drinking: _Sugar._

Jean was suddenly overwhelmed with despair as she watched Logan; he performed basic actions and routines that were unique to people, but there was no thought or understanding behind them. Any of the “normal” behaviors were reflexive from repeating them throughout his life, and there was so much of himself that seemed to have been simply cut out. Logan was so broken by torture that he didn’t even know he was broken, and almost before she realized it Jean was wiping tears out of her eyes.

Very suddenly, he was pressing his head against her left shoulder, rubbing his face into her shirt the way a pet would offer comfort to its owner. He could smell distress in a member of his pack and was trying to fix it, even though _she_ was supposed to be helping _him._

Logan keened, a high-pitched but quiet whine like a sad dog. Jean almost laughed at herself for petting him in response, smoothing down his fluffy black hair under her palm. But at least she felt a little better.

Logan pushed away from her and stood upright again, his hazel eyes soft in a way that so far he’d only directed at Jean. He considered most of the people in the mansion part of his pack to an extent, but there was still weariness and he’d probably be that way for a while yet. But she’d never been anything other than kind to him. She was special.

Jean briefly scanned his mind as they began walking again, eventually winding up in the garage. Logan was interested in the vehicles and assorted tools, distantly knowing what to do with them, and she discovered that before his capture he’d only ever learned to drive stick. Such a stupid, random detail, and she couldn’t help but find it funny.

Logan easily found a car in the back of the motor pool that Scott claimed needed some kind of engine work done, popping the hood open and starting to fiddle with something. Jean didn’t know anything about car mechanics, so she pulled up a metal folding chair to watch as he gathered an assortment of tools and containers of various fluids. Logan didn’t hesitate for a second as he got to work, simply knowing exactly what he needed to do without thinking about it.

The rhythm of his movements was actually pretty fascinating. Maybe he’d been a mechanic before; his mind was still in its animal mentality and everything he did with his hands was a practiced reflex. Logan’s instincts for the repairs made his hazel eyes darken with focus, absorbed into the task at hand.

Something caught Jean’s attention at the edge of her mind. Frowning, she focused on it, and discovered that the junior X-Men were headed their way, minus Kitty who was undoubtedly still working on the data recovered from Alkali Lake. Picking up their minds, she could hear what they were saying.

 _“I still can’t believe the professor said Jean can just let him wander around like that,”_ John was grumbling. _“Did you look at his eyes? They’re fucking creepy! He just stares right through you!”_

 _“C’mon, man, you gotta cut him a break,”_ Bobby argued. _“If he was really in there that long, it’s probably a miracle he didn’t gut Dr. Grey when she went to get him.”_

 _“It’s bullshit,”_ John insisted stubbornly. The pack of teens was close enough that Jean could almost physically hear them now. _“He’s gonna rip our lungs out in our sleep.”_

Jean sighed quietly to herself in exasperation. She was going to have a talk with him about this.

 _“You’re such a dick,”_ Jubilee snarked. _“I hope he_ does _tear you up, Pyro.”_

 _“Please can we not fight?”_ Piotr tried to break things up. _“Dr. Grey is quite powerful, and she will keep Logan out of trouble. He is just like how we are when we come here, except… with knife hands.”_

The door to the garage was flung open and the five students stopped dead when they saw Jean standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. “Bobby, you have your driver’s license, right?”

“Uh… y-yes, Dr. Grey,” the young mutant stammered with a nod.

“Alright. Enjoy your afternoon out, and try not to be back too late. John, a word please.”

Once the others had gone, she had him sit in the chair she’d previously occupied. A glance told her that Logan was still buried head-first in the car engine, so she could probably afford a few minutes.

“I’m waiting,” Jean declared flatly.

“There’s a bloodthirsty rabid pitbull in a man’s body who sleeps down the hall from me,” John muttered. “That’s bullshit, sorry. I have a right to not like it.”

“Okay, so by that logic should we have locked you inside a concrete room so that you can’t set everything around you on fire?” she pointed out.

“That would’ve pissed me off,” the 17-year-old grumbled, not looking at her.

“So how do you think he would feel if we did that to him? John, you need to understand that Logan isn’t just randomly violent. He’s already starting to recover and he sees you as part of his pack, so he won’t go after you unless you do something to deserve it. He won’t attack for the sake of attacking, either, he’s just very ill.” Jean made a gesture towards the wild mutant, seeing that he was depositing some kind of liquid into a compartment of the engine. “Besides, would a rabid pitbull be fixing a car right now?”

“No,” John ceded, still not looking. She could tell he was mad about missing the outing with his friends even without reading his mind. “Can I go, now?”

Jean sighed. “Alright. But I don’t want to hear any more about this from you.”


	4. The Only Response

Seventeen days after his rescue, Logan had started to behave, think and process emotions like a human being (the latter two, albeit, on about the level of a preschooler, but it was still progress). And of course, now that he was clawing his way to becoming a person again, that’s when the stress triggers and nightmares started. Logan still couldn’t talk at all and barely understood words, but that didn’t stop him from reacting badly to certain phrases. Two people could be passing him in the hallway sharing a conversation and he’d suddenly spring backwards, growling at them with his claws extended while he crouched into an attack stance. It usually took somewhere between ten and forty-five minutes for Jean to settle him again, and then he’d hide in his room for the rest of the day.

If the triggers and flashbacks during the day were difficult and painful to deal with, the nightmares were absolute hell. Logan’s mind would be projecting them so loud that they’d wake Jean up even if he wasn’t already screaming and thrashing on the other side of the wall, and she was forced to telekinetically pin him to his bed before waking him after she’d almost been eviscerated the first time it happened. Logan would briefly shower afterwards while Jean changed the sweat-drenched sheets for him, and he’d go back to sleep after that with some difficulty.

Tonight, though, even with his language impairments he let her know with absolute certainty that he really just didn’t want to bother trying. It would be morning in a couple of hours anyway, so she gave in and went with him to the TV room. Logan sank into one of the couches with an exhausted grumble and Jean settled on the other side of it, handing him the remote. He didn’t start flipping, though, because something seemed to have caught his attention. She watched him shift his weight briefly against the arm of the couch and come up with a book.

“‘ _The Collected Works Of Robert Frost_?’” Jean read aloud, frowning at it. “A student must’ve left it here by accident.” Logan stared at the book for a long moment, then surprisingly thrust it into her hands with his typical lack of subtlety. “No, it’s not mine…”

She trailed off when he shook his head and jabbed a finger at it, his eyes darkening until they were almost entirely brown. It took her a moment to get it.

“You want me to read it for you?”

Logan hesitated, processing, and then nodded. Jean chuckled a little at his unusual request until she brushed his thoughts and realized that it was because he just wanted to hear her talk - her voice soothed him, helping him feel grounded in reality. He didn’t care about the book or its contents at all. Jean gave his shoulder a light squeeze with one hand to help comfort him a little, and saw him slouching into the piece of furniture. By the end of the third paragraph, he’d fallen asleep.

She let Logan be, setting the book to the side and gently slipping calm and relaxing threads into his subconscious when he was already starting to tense and whimper. The exhaustion must’ve finally caught up with him, because Logan was still and quiet after that. Jean was tired, too, but drifting off herself and risking him waking up to wander off on his own wouldn’t do anyone favors.

At about 7:30 the sleepy tranquility was pushed away when Ororo emerged from the kitchen with two cups of coffee, one of which was passed over to Jean. She accepted it with a smile and sipped at it, turning slightly to see that Logan was rubbing his face with his palms and grumbling non-words as he struggled into wakefulness.

“So how did this happen?” her friend asked with an amused note in her voice.

“More nightmares,” Jean shrugged tiredly. “At least it’s warm enough now that I can walk him around outside today. Maybe that’ll help him a little.”

“Does he at least have a personality yet?” Ororo questioned dryly.

“Well, Logan’s certainly cranky if I have to run off and do something and he gets passed off to Scott because they clash. I don’t know how they manage to argue and posture when he doesn’t talk, but somehow it happens anyway. I also found out that he likes classical music, actually. Sometimes he puts on Beethoven in the garage while he’s working on something.”

Logan was still sitting slightly away from her on the couch, watching them as they talked. He was growing more and more intuitive about realizing when others were discussing him, but usually didn’t object too much as long as Jean was around to metaphorically hold his hand.

“Hey, Hank actually told me to ask you about him yesterday, but I couldn’t find you at the time and I forgot.”

“About Logan?” Jean tried to confirm, feeling surprised at this admission.

“Well, do you see any other ‘hims’ in this room?” her friend gently teased. “Yes, about Logan. He wanted to know if Logan’s mentally stable enough that he can steal you for a class this afternoon. Apparently he has to teach sex ed to the freshmen and thought it would be better to have the boys and girls separate.”

She had to laugh a little at that. “I’ve never split the class for that subject, actually, and somehow I get the feeling Hank will try to use nothing but technical terms and just confuse them… you know what, if you see him before I do, tell him that I’ll pick the class back up today for the freshmen so that he can have a break. At least if Logan sits in the corner and looks scary they won’t just be giggling and snarking the whole time.”

Scott, Emma and Remy were shuffling around the kitchen for breakfast and coffee when Jean came in with Logan trailing her. She handed him a 3-pound pack of raw bacon before making herself a second cup of magic wake-up liquid, adding two creamers and a squirt of hazelnut syrup. Turning to lean against the counter as she took a long sip, Jean frowned at Remy - Logan was watching intently as the Cajun thief played with his typical deck of cards.

“Do you play, _homme?_ ” Remy challenged with a devious smirk.

Logan accepted the cards when they were offered, immediately sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He deftly shuffled them as Remy also took a seat, eventually dealing them out in a setup of what Jean thought was Texas Hold ’Em.

_The whole bar smells like old cigarettes and the cards are warped and sticky, but he doesn’t care. He won big in the cage last night when some huge muscle-head had showed up to challenge, and like idiots the spectators had all bet on the bigger guy. So tonight he has a couple hundred extra to play Poker with. The first three hands have been pretty mediocre, but now he has a full house. After an arrogant smirk and collecting $570 American, he quits while he’s ahead and just settles in a dark corner by himself. He takes a swig of Jack Daniels and chases it with a long gulp of Molson, noticing a tipsy and easy-looking blond eyeing him while he lights up a cigar. Today was pretty good, he decides; he hasn’t gotten pulled over and given a speeding ticket, he won some extra dough from a group of drunk idiots, and now he’s probably about to get laid._

Jean’s coffee sloshed in the mug and some of it spilled over the floor when her hand jerked from pulling out of Logan’s memory. She didn’t really know how to feel about what she’d seen - was she doing harm by trying to revive his humanity? The brief glimpse into his past showed the kind of selfish dirtbag you stayed in the expensive parts of cities to avoid. Would he still be like that once he’d found himself again?

Then Jean saw the expression on Logan’s face. He’d gone still, eyes fixed on his hands and refusing to look at anyone. He hated that person, too. He’d been that way to shield himself from something and exploited it for all its worth, burying his self-loathing while he wandered aimlessly between cage fights in sketchy bars and benders with whatever women he could pick up. There was some dark part of his life that he was running from, but for now it was just beyond reach to recall…

Jean felt the overwhelming urge to pull Logan out of his chair and hug him as tight as she could, but it wouldn’t be appropriate behavior towards a patient and she didn’t think he’d appreciate it, either. It was getting more and more difficult for her to maintain her professionalism, though. Even if she hadn’t been telepathically gifted she would’ve felt the emotional distress growing stronger in him every day. Logan hated himself and he didn’t even know why.

Jean shook herself back into the real world and had a bowl of instant oatmeal for breakfast, occasionally glancing at her patient as other teachers came and went during their morning rituals. Logan was still playing cards with Remy, looking a lot less enthusiastic about it than he had been before.

“Don’t forget, it’s your day to supervise the Danger Room,” Scott addressed the Cajun, “so don’t get too wrapped up over there.”

Remy smirked in reply. “When this one goes on his break to go home next month, who will you have to boss around?”

The team leader ignored the jab, instead sharing a brief kiss with Emma before she left to get ready for her first class of the day. Jean forced her expression and thoughts to remain neutral and pushed down her bitterness at the sight. Again, she wasn’t still bound by romantic feelings for Scott (if he would let himself be seduced out of the relationship he’d been in with Jean for several years, then she clearly deserved better than him anyway), but Emma was just such a smug bitch about it…

Shaking her head, Jean put her breakfast dishes into the sink and brushed her fingers over Logan’s arm to get his attention. “Hey, let’s go get dressed, I’m going to show you the woods around the school this morning.”

He nodded after a moment, showing that he _mostly_ understood, then followed her back upstairs to get ready for the day. Jean threw on some casual pants and a green sweater, then stepped into her winter boots and grabbed a lighter fall jacket and her gloves. She didn’t need the heavy winter coat because the weather was supposed to be nice today, but the snow hadn’t melted yet and she still had to wear the boots.

Logan stubbornly followed her outside with just a hoodie, but he didn’t seem to be affected by the cold at all. He also looked a lot more comfortable out in the open air instead of endlessly pacing the halls of the school, she noted. Maybe this should become part of his daily routine.

Once they reached the edge of the lawn and entered the woods, Logan would stop every few minutes, extend his claws, swipe three shallow gashes into one of the trees and then retract them. The animal subconscious was still strong in him even as he made progress to becoming a person again, so he felt the need to stake out his claim over the territory. Actually, Jean found it kind of endearing. He didn’t necessarily trust them yet (except for her, of course), but he felt the need to show the world that they were his pack and he would treat them as such.

Eventually they paused in a small clearing. Jean sat down on a rock to rest for a moment, enjoying Logan’s quiet presence and the smell of the cool air. Actually, she realized, she hadn’t been outside for over a month either, because she’d been preoccupied with taking care of him. Yes, Jean decided. This would definitely have to become a daily activity during the remainder of his psychiatric rehabilitation.

Logan paced the clearing for a minute, then hesitantly settled on the rock beside her. He didn’t like having his personal space invaded, but he was comfortable with Jean and he’d chosen to sit on her right, so he was fine for the time being. He’d already eaten this morning, so she could feel that he wasn’t interested in the scent of prey around him, and there were no enemies to deal with, so for now he just sat peacefully.

Logan turned his head, catching her eye. Jean could hear the unspoken sentiment from his mind: _Thank you._ The only good response she had was to smile.


	5. Taking Back The Pain

_Fuck._

That’s all Logan could think right then, fists clenched, claws out, breathing hard and bent into a combat stance. It only took a couple seconds to remember that the kid hadn’t been trying to hurt him, that he was here at the school, but his body refused to let go of the lingering tension. He swore he could still smell the gasoline in his nose, feel the blackening skin peel and blister.

_Fuck._

“Logan,” Dr. Grey’s gentle voice found his ears, “Logan, it’s okay, calm down. You’re here with us, remember? It’s okay.”

_Fuck._

Logan’s only defense was to turn his fear into rage. He let a long growl roll around deep in his chest, turning his wrists slightly so that the sunlight would glint off his claws. He knew the little bastard didn’t like him much, anyway, so there wouldn’t be any love lost between them. He desperately chased the flash of memory and pain, when they’d set him on fire just to see what would happen.

_Fuck._

“Logan, look at me,” Dr. Grey insisted.

Slowly, reluctantly, he turned slightly, watching from the corner of his eye as the two students bolted away. He didn’t really know their names, not that it mattered. He remembered what they smelled like. One was sharp but clean, the bite of a frozen lake in January, while the other was like a blunt impact of that memory: combustion and screaming agony.

_Fuck._

Logan closed his eyes and let the long blades flick back up into his arms, not looking at her. Two days ago she’d had him sit and watch while she explained the mechanics of sex to several such students, which he refused to admit had drawn a slew of uncomfortable feelings and ideas out of the cesspit that was his mind. Dr. Grey was trying to help him. She didn’t want him like that, so he couldn’t look, because if he did his control would evaporate. Logan clenched his jaw so hard that he risked cracking his own teeth, turning away from her again and walking stiffly.

Of course she caught up with him. That was what she did, after all.

“Logan, it’s not your fault.”

_Yeah, right._

“They were just practicing some of their combat training together, that’s all. They didn’t know you’d be out here.”

_So fucking what? Could’a hurt two kids for no reason._

“ _Logan._ ” Dr. Grey’s voice was stubborn as she grabbed his wrist, her hand gripping firmly but not hurting him. He stopped, but still didn’t turn her way. “You need to listen to me, okay? It’s not your fault. Those people did unspeakable things to you, and because of that your mind is very, very sick. I can help you get past it, but you need to trust me.”

God, he wanted that. Dr. Grey was the only person who’d ever taken care of him or shown him kindness, even when he hadn’t been able to offer anything in return. He couldn’t believe anyone was capable of such caring, such goodness, but she was. She’d never been afraid of him or gotten angry with him. She didn’t try to use him for her own ends. All Logan had ever known from her was gentle concern, and he just _knew_ that would get her killed.

He remembered very little of his life, only some of the most disgusting or terrifying moments he’d endured, but in his gut he was absolutely certain that anyone he’d ever cared for had either betrayed him, died, or both.

_Never again._

Logan felt a sick coldness in his sternum as he yanked his arm away, stomping off through the dirty snow without daring to look over his shoulder. He hated himself in that moment, knowing under his strong body that looked like he was in his prime there was a deformed monster slavering and eager to destroy everything around him. And as always, he warred with himself.

 **_Must stay,_ ** Wolverine insisted. **_Territory. Pack. Nest._ **

_Fuck you,_ Logan growled back at his mind. _You don’t know nothin’. There ain’t anythin’ here for us and we’re leavin’. Can’t take this. Don’t deserve this. We gotta go._

His ears and nose told him definitively that Dr. Grey wasn’t following him, so he slipped into the garage without incident. She’d probably look for him, he knew, but he wouldn’t let himself be found. Logan didn’t have the key, but his hands knew how to hotwire the Harley he’d been drooling over since he’d first seen it, and that let him escape the mansion before Dr. Grey had probably been able to let anyone else know what he’d done.

It was the end of March, but that didn’t mean it was especially warm out and Logan didn’t have gloves or a real jacket. He drove aimlessly even long after it got dark, doing almost double the speed limit and not caring where he ended up. His face and hands had gone numb more than an hour ago. To put a cherry on the shit sundae that was his life, it started raining at what he guessed was 2:00 AM, little bullets of water pounding against him. Logan’s clothes soon soaked through to his skin, making his body burn with cold, and with it beating into his face he couldn’t see even with his enhanced senses.

The tires slipping at just the wrong angle during a turn sent him catapulting ass-over-end down the road so quickly he didn’t know it had happened until the first patch of clothing and skin was sheared away from his shoulder. Logan didn’t come to a stop until the left side of his face suddenly became intimately acquainted with the guard rail, and for a long moment he couldn’t even summon a moan of pain.

Logan eventually shook off the stupor enough to twist his right kneecap back into place and straighten his dislocated wrist, groaning as the frigid rain smacked his open wounds until they finished sealing themselves up. Dragging himself to his feet, Logan discovered that a good 45% of his jeans and hoodie had been ripped away, leaving more skin exposed. He’d been cold before, and usually he could take it, but it was probably one degree above freezing and he was utterly drenched. To make things worse, one of his boots had actually been pulled off his foot somehow, and for the life of him he couldn’t see it anywhere.

The motorcycle in question was trashed, and at least twenty feet from where Logan had finally come to a stop. Holy fucking shit, but this was as bad as things could get for him short of being sent back to the lab.

Shivering as the wind blasted him, Logan got off the road and crossed the clear strip into the woods that ran along the highway. The rain had already obliterated his scent and the spatters of blood, so nobody would be able to track him, but the trees were still safer. He could sleep in one of them, too. Actually that thought seemed downright cozy at the moment. Between the dismal weather and his injuries, even if they’d already healed, Logan was bone-tired.

Using the last scrap of strength, he hauled himself into the branches and curled into a ball. He’d just rest for a moment, he decided, ignoring the Wolverine howling at the back of his head that he was being stupid and should keep moving. Logan would just rest for a minute, gain a little more strength.

 _Just for a minute,_ he thought to himself one last time before consciousness fled.

* * *

 

For a few scattered moments after that, Logan was dimly aware of the world around him. Voices. Maybe they said his name. Then, warmth, what might be another person curling around him and rubbing his hands in theirs. Softness under his body and a palm smoothing down his thick, dark hair.

When Logan woke up for real, he was in his bed at the mansion, which didn’t make sense. Had it been a dream? A nightmare of something that had happened to him before? His whole body pulled stiff when he sat up, though, so apparently it had really happened and they’d recovered him somehow. Flipping back the blanket showed that somebody, probably Dr. Grey, had gotten him out of his ruined clothes and struggled him into a pair of clean boxers and his sweatpants.

Cracking his neck and his knuckles, Logan stood up from the bed and threw on a white undershirt before shuffling out into the hall. All the other nests smelled empty, so it was probably the middle of the day. That was fine, though. He didn’t really want to cross paths with anyone at the moment.

Down in the kitchen he ran into Kurt, but the blue teleporter was quiet and harmless, so Logan didn’t really mind him. He dug around in the fridge and found half a pizza, which he supposed would make a good enough breakfast. Or… lunch, considering the time of day. It was instantly ruined, though, when Scott walked into the kitchen. Apparently Kurt knew something Logan didn’t, because he immediately vanished in a puff of blue smoke.

“You totaled my bike, you know,” Scott accused, standing in the doorway and folding his arms across his chest.

Logan didn’t say anything and kept eating his pizza, acting as if he hadn’t heard. Truth be told, he _did_ know how to talk by now, but he knew that as soon as he said anything people would start expecting him to interact with them and that wasn’t something he wanted to put up with just yet.

“You really hurt Jean yesterday, too. She’s _never_ done anything but try to help you, you dumb animal. The least you could do is show some gratitude.” Logan still flatly refused to react, and near the edge of his vision he saw Scott’s head shake. “I don’t know who we all think we’re kidding, though. Once you get back on your feet you’ll just bolt like you did last night. You won’t help us or be part of the team, because we’ll have outlived our usefulness for you, won’t we? But you don’t care. You’re fine exploiting our resources and hurting my friends. You probably get off on other people’s pain.”

Logan jammed the next slice into his mouth, then made a face and spat it back out again. Green peppers. Ew. Clearly this was the leftovers from several pizzas.

Scott let out a long, slow sigh of disappointment. “You don’t even know you’re supposed to be a person, do you? You’re still just a dog who never got housebroken. You don’t understand what I'm saying either, right? We rescued you from that bunker, but you ran at the first chance you got. Last night we saved you from hypothermia, too, but I know you’ll just run again in the end. I wouldn’t care if you weren’t hurting Jean by doing it. Just do us a favor and leave right now, Logan. You’re nothing but trouble for us. Especially her.”

Logan maintained his calculated non-reaction until Scott left the kitchen, then sank to the floor with his arms around his head and his face on his knees. He didn’t give two shits what Scott thought of him, but the confirmation of his own thought process from any source was like being stabbed in the chest. The mental comparison dredged up a memory of being chained to an operating table and forced to watch them pull open his ribs; they’d been trying to implant some type of inhibitor device that would regulate his vitals and throw him into unconsciousness at the flip of a switch, but his body had pushed it out through his skin in less than four minutes.

His split torso and the lungs underneath flashed in front of Logan’s vision, and before he knew it he was plunging his head into the kitchen sink. Even once all the pizza was gone, he kept gagging and dry-heaving for several long moments. It was almost worse than the actual puking, because he knew there was nothing left but his body was still convulsing against his will.

Spitting, Logan pushed himself upright again. He didn’t care if he got hurt, really, whether his joints were wrenched out of place or he got stabbed or blunt trauma or abrasions. But even though it hadn’t happened since his rescue, he suddenly realized that he really fucking hated getting cuts. It would always be _those_ cuts for him, the ones they used to open his flesh and pour molten adamantium through. He could take being shot, he could get into motorcycle crashes, hit by cars. Even if he was set on fire again he didn’t think it would have the same amount of rage.

 **_No,_ ** Wolverine bellowed, straining to break loose inside his mind. **_NO! They can’t control us anymore. We killed them. Take back the pain! TAKE BACK THE PAIN! THEY CAN NEVER TOUCH US AGAIN!_ **

Logan clenched the tendons in his left wrist just so, and the claws sprang free. Snarling vengefully, he stabbed the tip into his right arm and flayed himself open, watching blood almost instantly start pouring from his skin to spatter across the tile floor. This was _his_ pain. He _chose_ this. Still growling, Logan literally tore off his shirt and dragged the claw from his shoulder to his palm, relishing in the searing hurt while the dark redness of his life flooded down his body.

 **_Not enough!_ ** Wolverine barked, egging him on and basking in the self-inflicted brutality of the action. **_More!_ **

Logan roared, loosing the blades from his other hand without waiting for the lacerations to close up. He raked them over his chest, ripping skin and muscle away until most of his shiny metal ribs were visible. He was hemorrhaging all over himself and the kitchen counter, but he didn’t care. His eyes stung with tears of rage and he was starting to drool through his clenched jaw, but he didn’t care about that either. Logan just needed to see it, the unfixable damage they’d done to him, mutilating his body for their own twisted whims.

The pain was incredible. There was no purer sensation than injury, and he realized with sick joy that nobody could hurt him the way he could. The flesh was trying to grow back over his chest, but he kept furiously scraping with his claws, flicking shreds of himself and drops of blood all over the place without meaning to.

The adrenaline of shearing apart his own torso as well as the overwhelming stench of blood clogged his senses, so he wasn’t even aware that someone had been approaching until something smashed against the floor. Startled, Logan’s head whipped to his left, making him feel slightly woozy from hypovolemia, and to his horror and shame his eyes met Dr. Grey’s.

Apparently she’d eaten lunch somewhere else, because a fork and the shards of a plate were scattered at her feet. Her lovely face was contorted into an expression of absolute shock, which made Logan instinctively start to back away from her. His feet slid on the pool of blood and he stumbled to his knees, one fist clenched around the edge of the counter with the claws still out. They were starting to get sticky from the drying gore.

Watching him fall must have broken Dr. Grey out of her stupor, because she was crouched beside him before he could try to stop her.

“Logan, ohmygod,” she exclaimed, reaching for him.

Logan stifled a groan but still flinched as the sleeve of her lab coat swiped across his torn flesh. There was no way Dr. Grey could’ve moved him on her own, he knew - between his dense muscles and the adamantium he pushed 450 pounds - but when she lifted up under his arms with her gentle hands, he let her pull him up. Logan was ushered back up to his room, undressed, and then made to sit in the tub.

As Dr. Grey tenderly lathered his skin to wash away the blood, he found himself plagued by a single thought. Watching the red suds spiral down the drain made him realize it, more than tearing himself open just so he could feel the hurt. It was like fallout, settling across the surface of his mind and drifting into every corner so that he couldn’t focus on anything else.

_I want to die._


	6. Making Everything Real

Jean heard the thought as soon as Logan had it, and the sensation almost made her burst into tears right then for his hurt.

Seeing him like this - huddled in the bathtub, dripping as she cleansed him of his own life fluids - was a hundred times more heartbreaking than when she’d read his file and what had been done to him. Logan himself would never see that file, of course, but it was burned into her memory like a wound that would bleed forever and never scar over.

The worst part, Jean thought to herself as she briskly rubbed his skin dry with a towel and struggled him into clean clothes, was the realization that he would’ve killed himself already if he had a way to. His broken life was too much, he needed to search for answers about himself but wished he didn’t know as soon as he found one. His very skeleton carried the permanent, definitive mark of their cruelty, and he would probably live to the end of time with it. Everyone would die around him and he’d be alone, forever.

Logan was sitting on the edge of his bed at her coaxing, and for some reason he was studying her with a lack of understanding that she hadn’t seen on his face for a while. That was when Jean realized she _was_ crying.

Wiping away the silent tears, she abandoned all notions of professional medical practice for the moment to sit next to Logan and pull his thick body into her arms. She could feel that he’d been attacking himself to prove, in a twisted way, that _he_ was the one in control, that his arms and legs and bones belonged to _him_ and he could rip himself apart as much as he liked, even more thoroughly than they had. Jean hated that he felt that way.

 _Logan is your patient,_ her conscience tried to remind her. But she didn’t care right now. _Patient._ A patient is a last name on a plastic hospital bracelet that you can distance yourself from, put in the back of your mind so that their suffering won’t overwhelm you. But Jean couldn’t force that label onto Logan anymore. She’d recovered him from the pits of hell, spent almost the last two months working tirelessly to help him become himself again.

Being a doctor was, for her at least, a labor of love. It always had been, really, because ever since childhood she’d wanted to take care of people, help them, prop them up somehow when they couldn’t stand on their own anymore. But until this moment, she hadn’t really known it for sure. Logan had been stripped of everything in the bunker, tortured for torture’s sake through sixteen years. She’d been rebuilding him from the ground up, molding a crippled animal back into the shape of a human being.

“Logan,” Jean began softly, still trying to offer comfort through the embrace, “I don’t know how much you understand when I talk to you, but I really do want to help you get better. You’re not beyond healing, and I’m doing everything I can for you. But please don’t do this again. What you’ve gone through is too heavy for you to deal with alone. I’m here.” She paused, then repeated in a whisper, “I hope you understand.”

Jean wasn’t sure which part of Logan’s reaction shocked her more - his strong arms suddenly returning the hug, or the words rolling from his chest in a deep voice that was hoarse from disuse: “I understand more’n you know, darlin’.”

Taken completely off guard, Jean jerked her head back in surprise to look at him. Logan’s hazel eyes had become mostly golden-brown, betraying the depths of his suffering despite his otherwise blank expression.

“You can talk…”

Dammit, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all.

Logan shrugged, seeming to pause nervously for a split second before he pulled Jean back against his chest. There were so many things she wanted to ask him then, about why he hadn’t said anything before, why he’d suddenly fled the school last night, why he decided to hug her now. Just, _why._ Why he did any of the things he did. But she knew this really wasn’t the time for any of that, and stayed silent. Jean was surprised when she felt him take a deep breath.

“Look doc, I know you can’t really hear me in my head sometimes… but you seen enough by now that you know how bad shit really got for me. An’ you’re the only one who’s ever been good to me. Ever. So, no, I ain’t dumpin’ all my crazy on you no more. I ain’t gonna ruin you the way they ruined me.”

Logan tried to pull away briefly, but Jean just held onto him tighter, feeling vaguely like a stubborn child. He was undoubtedly strong enough to throw her across the room with one hand if he wanted to, but maybe he’d simply given up on fighting, because eventually he sank against her with all his weight and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“You’re not ruined,” Jean insisted, rubbing circles into his back with her palm. “It doesn’t matter what they did, what you remember, what you don’t remember or even anything they might’ve forced you to do for them. _They don’t own you._ You’re not a monster or a weapon. You’re Logan. Now say it back to me.”

He was still for a moment, but then muttered, “I’m Logan an’ they don’t own me.”

She smiled, nodding against his hard shoulder. “I’m going to make you repeat that every morning when you wake up until you start to realize it’s true if I have to, mister.”

“Hm,” he grunted, sounding like he either didn’t believe her or didn’t care. “You don’t gotta do this shit for me, doc. Twisted bastard like me don’t deserve nothin’ good from someone like you.”

“Tell me,” Jean demanded before she realized what she was saying. No, you know what, hell with it. He probably wouldn’t tell her if she didn’t drag it out of him, but if he didn’t get it out there he could never heal. “Tell me everything you remember.”

“Fuck no.”

“You need to tell someone, Logan. I won’t go looking around in your head, I promise, but if you don’t talk about it you can never get over it.”

He shook his head, then all but shoved her away from his body. His eyes were squeezed shut and an expression of despair mixed with lingering fear flashed for a moment before he got a grip on himself again.

“Y’know, far as the actual shit they did to me went, the fuckers never lied. Always held down on a table, an' they came to me, ’cause otherwise I’da sliced an’ diced them somethin’ good. Tryn’a break me. They just wanted the animal. Not the ‘me’ part. Animal’s a way shorter leap to weapon. So… Jesus, no, can’t fuckin’ talk ’bout it.”

Jean sighed, but she wasn’t frustrated with him. Such a beautiful, broken man, she couldn’t help but think. He hated himself and the things he’d done. He didn’t like to kill even though they’d perfected him for that exact task. What could Logan have been, if they hadn’t gotten their hands on him? Jean was sure that his indiscriminate hostility was entirely from the pain he was in, but that in the beginning, as a child, he must have been a sweet and gentle boy. His expressions and body language were so guarded, but the sadness in his eyes told her everything.

* * *

 

As Logan was headed for the kitchen to scrounge up some kind of meat, he paused by the TV room. There was a student on one of the couches, a girl, with headphones in her ears. They were the noise-cancelling kind, but his senses were much sharper than average, and what had made him stop was that he could hear the depressing lyrics coming from her music player.

 

 _There's another world inside of me /_ _That you may never see_

 _There're secrets in this life /_ _That I can't hide_

 _Somewhere in this darkness /_ _There's a light that I can't find_

 _Maybe it's too far away... /_ _Or maybe I'm just blind..._

 

_Or maybe I'm just blind…_

 

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _Hold me when I'm scared /_ _And love me when I'm gone_

 _Everything I am /_ _And everything in me_

 _Wants to be the one /_ _You wanted me to be_

 _I'll never let you down /_ _Even if I could_

 _I'd give up everything /_ _If only for your good_

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _You can hold me when I'm scared /_ _You won't always be there_

_So love me when I'm gone_

 

_Love me when I'm gone..._

 

 _When your education X-Ray /_ _Cannot see under my skin_

 _I won't tell you a damn thing /_ _That I could not tell my friends_

 _Roaming through this darkness /_ _I'm alive but I'm alone_

 _Part of me is fighting this /_ _But part of me is gone_

 

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _Hold me when I'm scared /_ _And love me when I'm gone_

 _Everything I am /_ _And everything in me_

 _Wants to be the one /_ _You wanted me to be_

 _I'll never let you down /_ _Even if I could_

 _I'd give up everything /_ _If only for your good_

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _You can hold me when I'm scared /_ _You won't always be there_

_So love me when I'm gone_

 

_Or maybe I'm just blind..._

 

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _Hold me when I'm scared /_ _And love me when I'm gone_

 _Everything I am /_ _And everything in me_

 _Wants to be the one /_ _You wanted me to be_

 _I'll never let you down /_ _Even if I could_

 _I'd give up everything /_ _If only for your good_

 _So hold me when I'm here /_ _Right me when I'm wrong_

 _You can hold me when I'm scared /_ _You won't always be there_

_So love me when I'm gone_

 

_Love me when I'm gone..._

 

_Love me when I'm gone_

_When I'm Gone_

_When I'm Gone_

_When I'm Gone_

 

Logan didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he opened them when the song ended. The girl reached into her pocket for her music player, but apparently she hadn’t known he was there because she jumped when she saw him and frantically pulled the buds out of her ears. Logan raised his palms in a peaceful gesture - there was something that made him feel incredibly sick at the idea of harming a child.

“Sorry,” the girl mumbled, looking away briefly to fiddle with the small device. “I-I can go, if you wanted to sit here by yourself…”

Logan shrugged, not really caring. Mostly he was thinking about that song; it was a downer, that’s for sure, but the words were scarily accurate to how he felt most of the time these days. Slowly, so that she wouldn’t be afraid of him, he moved around the side of a different couch and settled himself on it, still watching her.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I was there when we helped get you out,” she offered, seeming a little nervous.

Logan frowned, shaking his head. No, he didn’t remember. Her behavior was a dead giveaway, though, that she’d been in a similar situation at least once. He cocked his left eyebrow at her and leaned back against the couch with his arms folded.

“I was in a lab, too,” she whispered. “Scott and Jean rescued me, before he was dating Emma. But I never told anyone what it was like there, not even them. I guess you know how that feels, huh?”

Flicking his eyes down for a second, Logan sighed through his nose and nodded. He was hideously aware, suddenly, of things he’d seen done to kids in that bunker. Especially the girls.

“Do you ever talk about it? Y’know, with Jean?”

Logan just gave her a hard stare. This girl didn’t need to know that he wasn’t mute, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her anything that he couldn’t bring himself to share with Dr. Grey. The girl got the point pretty quickly, though, and gave a slight nod.

“I’m sorry. It’s touchy for me, too. I’ve been here for three years, since I was fourteen, but nobody else knows what it’s like in those places. I’m glad we found you there, too, because… because now I’m not the only one.”

An unexpected wave of sympathy washed over Logan at that, and he found himself nodding in agreement. It had never occurred to him that they might have rescued other prisoners, but now that he knew, it did make him feel a little better. He could smell that she was telling the truth, so if she’d been here for years after her rescue, maybe this place _could_ be safe for him. For a while, anyway. The idea of having a permanent nest in a warm room with food was certainly appealing.

“I know you don’t talk, but, um… you won’t say anything if I just tell you some things, right?”

He nodded again. There was a similar tenderness in this student that was a lot like Dr. Grey’s, not a mean bone in her body even after enduring such torture at the hands of “scientists.” The small smile he received in return was so likable that he couldn’t help but offer a friendly smirk. Something about this kid made him instantly warm up to her.

“Your name is Logan, right?” Another in the series of nods. She came over to offer a gloved hand, which he shook without hesitating. “Hi, Logan. I’m Rogue.”

Rogue plunked back down onto her couch and he found himself eyeing her gloves. He guessed they were stylish or something, but why wear them indoors?

“My skin hurts people,” she began as if she’d read his mind. She wasn’t, though - he always felt when someone was trying to. “That’s why they wanted me. I can absorb people if I touch them… some of their memories, or their powers if they’re mutants. They figured out that maybe they could… um… make special mutants, and control which powers they got. They were trying to work around the problem of my skin for a while, though, because, um, they wanted my power.”

Logan’s guts clenched. He could already tell where this was going, but why in god’s name would she talk to _him_ about this? They didn’t know each other at all… at least in a conventional sense. Really, though, he realized that by virtue of their experiences, they knew each other better than anyone else could.

“So finally, when I’d been there for… a year, I think… they, um, they… got an idea. I was transferred to a different place far away from the one I’d been in before. The head scientist guy said that they could use a weapon or something, and I thought they’d hold a gun to my head and make me, but… I just got tossed into this room…”

_They’ve unchained him… but why? They’d figured out very quickly what happens if he isn’t held down by something. His whole body hurts right down to his bones, even though some distant corner of his brain knows it must have been years since they put the metal in him. Fuck, it hurts. He hasn’t moved in so long. He can’t remember who he is or even his own name, but his body knows that it used to be strong. Now he’s just bones under skin that doesn’t remember what the sun feels like. He knows he liked it, though, back when there was sun for him…_

“I got really scared, because someone else was in there. It made it real, I think.”

_Fuck! He can hear them coming up the hall… they’re going to do something to him and he knows it. But why unchain him? That makes no sense. Well, he’ll fucking gut them as soon as they come in. His claws itch something fierce. They’ve always been itchy inside his arms since the metal, but now it’s almost burning in his wrists, needing him to let them out and carve into flesh._

“They… um… they shot him a bunch of times, though, with a machine gun. He got up after they locked the door behind me, and the bullets started to fall back out.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, he hadn’t counted on that. He thought maybe his luck had turned and they’d gotten dumb again, somehow. Fuck. There’s no muscle to catch the rounds, so they’d smacked right into his metal skeleton. Do bones get bruises? He thinks they do. They must be bruised right now, anyway, because that’s sure as hell what it feels like. Fuck. He’s hungry, he can’t remember not being hungry, but that doesn’t mean he likes eating lead…_

“I never saw the guy’s face, though. He didn’t look at me. But, it’s weird that I remember this… he didn’t have any hair, like, at all. He smelled like gas, too. I think he got burned, but he healed from it like with the bullets.”

_There’s someone else in here, now. He can hear them breathing, smell their fear… and youth. FUCK! It’s a kid. They stuck a little kid in here with him, a little girl. He knows what they want him to do. FUCK! Jesus, he can’t hurt a kid, it ain’t right and he knows it. They can do whatever they want, or threaten to kill her, or something, but he won’t ever, EVER, force himself on a child. There’s nothing in his stomach but water, but he still starts to throw up. FUCK!_

“He got sick and wouldn’t touch me. I don’t know why. I never found out, either. He just stayed in the corner and finally they took me away. When they were driving me back, that’s when I got rescued.”

_When he won’t go to her, they beat him. They carve him up with a scalpel and peel the skin off his hands like gloves, all the way up to his elbows, and he can see where his claws are held in place by tendons. They cut out his intestines and strangle him with them. They inject battery acid into his neck. They force-feed him shards of broken glass and rusty screws. But he doesn’t care, not anymore. It’s all he has. There are so many things that he is - experiment, weapon, animal, abomination, victim. But there are two things that he knows he isn’t. He’s not a human being. They’ve taken that from him, slowly stripping it until all that was left was the soulless monster he is now. But he’s also not a child rapist. They took everything, and he’ll never get it back. But he can hold onto this. He’s not a child rapist._

Jesus fucking Christ, it was him that they’d thrown her to. Logan had always wondered after that, well, until he’d forgotten everything but how rage tasted. He’d always doubted. They’d send her to someone else, someone who would probably beat her before raping her senseless… but, no. Jesus fucking Christ. He’d actually saved her, because these people had rescued her right after. They took his humanity from him down there, but somehow he’d let Rogue keep hers.

“Fuck,” Logan whispered in a shuddering breath before he could stop the word from slipping out. Somehow he ended up on the floor, trying not to be sick again like he was yesterday in the sink. Once that went away, he was sobbing into his palms, gasping: “It was me… it was me…”

Hands. Fuck, _hands!_ NO!

Logan threw himself backwards, claws snapping out from his knuckles. “NO! NO! I’M NOT A CHILD RAPIST!”

Through the blur of his tears, it took a moment to realize that Rogue had run and gotten Dr. Grey. They were both gawking at him as his panting breaths slowed, and he couldn’t help feeling more than a little humiliated when he forced his claws back in and lowered his arms.

“What happened?” Dr. Grey asked, her voice thick with concern.

“I don’t know,” Rogue stammered, her voice cracking. “I was just talking and he was fine, but then he just started freaking out…”

“Okay. It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault, Rogue, I promise. It’s okay.”

The girl nodded, by now also crying. As she turned and was leaving the room, Dr. Grey slowly approached, holding out a hand with her palm facing up. Logan just watched nervously, forcing his body to stop shaking and swallowing back his tears. Eventually her hand rested on his upper arm and his eyes closed as he sucked in a long breath. He could sense her gently reaching into his mind, feeling out what had just happened, including his memories that had sprung free.

“Logan… God… I’m so, so sorry,” Dr. Grey told him quietly, taking hold of his fingers lightly. “You _did_ save her, you know. Not everyone would’ve if they had to go through the same thing. You don’t ever have to be sorry for saving her. I just wish we could’ve found you sooner, and… You’re right, Logan. You’re not a child rapist. We know you wouldn’t hurt the kids here. I saw it in you, even your… _wilder_ part knows that they’re just cubs.”

“Yeah.” He grunted the word through clenched teeth. “Cubs. That don’t mean they’re safe ’round me, though. Could gut them by accident.”

“I want you to go back to bed for the rest of the day, Logan. You need to lay down so that you can let go of this episode.”

“‘Episode?’ I’m a fuckin’ TV show now?” he snorted, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“No. Everything that’s going on with you right now points to post-traumatic stress disorder, which means that certain things in the environment or that people say can make you remember things that have happened to you. When you have one of those memories, it’s called an episode. So you’re going to lay down in your room for the rest of the day, and tomorrow after breakfast we’ll come up with a plan to try and identify your triggers so that you can avoid them or deal with them better. Okay?”

“Whatever. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout shit like this.”

Dr. Grey nodded, and Logan could tell she was holding back a sigh. As he moved to leave and do what she said, her hands clenched around his. “Hey. I want you to try and get some sleep, okay? You have chronic insomnia and it’s not helping your condition. I’ll come check on you every so often.”

“Whatever,” Logan grumbled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Rogue was listening to is "When I'm Gone" by 3 Doors Down. The song is *written about* PTSD, so when it popped into my head one morning and I realized it was perfect for Logan, I had to throw it in.


	7. Hinting At Laughter

Logan had made up his mind to find that Rogue girl and talk to her the day after the incident, but between Professor Xavier poking around in his head every afternoon and Dr. Grey’s coddling (which he secretly liked, but he didn’t want her to know that) it was more than a week before he ran into her again. He hadn’t even been looking for her this time, either, but they’d crossed paths by accident when he’d gone to the kitchen and she’d been there eating some kind of processed snack.

Logan cautiously rapped his knuckles on the frame of the doorway, not knowing how she’d react. Rogue’s eyes widened when she looked up - not usually a good sign. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi,” she mumbled timidly.

“Look, I… I’m sorry ’bout what happened. Didn’t mean to scare you or nothin’ when you were talkin’ to me.”

“It-it’s okay,” Rogue stammered. “Jean told me you have some kind of… something, and that it wasn’t your fault. I just got worried, because you fell off the couch and got real pale, and… I thought you were dying or something.”

“Nah, I ain’t never gonna be able to do that,” Logan countered, shaking his head. “Things you were tellin’ me just made me remember, too, an’ I realized… Jesus, kid, I’m the one they stuck you with, you understand? That’s why I said… what I said… when you both tried to help me. For the record, yeah. Got set on fire right before that. Hurt like a bitch, too.”

Rogue gave him a sad look. “I’m sorry for everything they did to you, Logan. I know you were there longer than me, so… I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Logan shook his head. “I’mma tell you the same thing I told the doc, it ain’t your fault and you don’t gotta be sorry for any’a that shit. But, for what it’s worth, when they threw you in with me… never was gonna hurt you. Didn’t care what they did or nothin’ after, but that encounter was somethin’ special to me. I don’t remember nothin’ before the lab, so… first choice I ever got for anythin’. _I chose_ not to hurt you. Only real important choice I ever got, too.”

Logan was vaguely surprised when Rogue smiled at him, and downright shocked when she came over and hugged him for a long moment. He was wearing a hoodie and she was a lot shorter than him, so there was no danger, but it still felt odd. He returned the gesture after a second, and when she finally let go she was still smiling.

“Thank you, Logan.” Rogue’s voice was very quiet, but the words were still clear as day. “You didn’t even know me, but you took whatever punishment it was for me anyway. I can’t tell you how much that means.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

“I’ll understand if you’re mad at me for reminding you, though.”

“Ain’t mad. It was important… never done nothin’ for nobody before that. Look, uh, I understand what you meant when you said they don’t get it. You ever… you ever wanna tell me ’bout it, I’m all ears, even in the middle’a the night. Prob’ly still be up anyway.”

“Okay, I will sometime.” Rogue flashed him that smile again, so full of warmth and hope that it made him feel like he’d been stabbed; how could she still be so happy and innocent after the things she’d seen and what he’d almost been forced to do to her? “I have a class in ten minutes, but you can talk to me, too, if you want.”

“Thanks, kid. Go do your numbers an' shit or whatever it is they’re tryn’a make you learn.”

Logan resumed his mission to dig around in the fridge once she’d gone, coming up with two packages of pork chops. He didn’t care if they were raw and didn’t feel like waiting for them to cook properly, so he microwaved them for a minute or so and began chowing down without bothering to get utensils. He was trying to learn table manners, he really was, but it just wasn’t a high priority and Dr. Grey wasn’t here to make him do it, either.

As he was wolfing the second half of the meat pile, he smelled someone come into the kitchen behind him, mildly sour with annoyance.

“We were planning on eating those this week,” came a woman’s voice.

Logan frowned as he tried to place it, not looking over his shoulder and still chewing with obvious indifference. The white-haired one, with that weather thing… Ororo? Yeah, that was it. She had a weird name and a slight accent of some kind, so he didn’t think she’d been born anywhere nearby.

“Jean said you’ve been talking, but I guess that’s only for her, then?”

Logan gave way to Wolverine and growled in warning, sinking his teeth into the next chop. He didn’t like it when people bugged him as he was trying to eat. He just wanted to enjoy some raw pig without someone talking at him.

Ororo sighed at his lack of response. “If it will make things easier, we can label certain things with your name. Nobody will eat anything with your name on it before you can, and then we won’t have to worry about you accidentally eating others’ food as well.”

He paused at that, finally looking over his shoulder having stopped mid-chew with a huge ball of fat in his mouth. It must’ve made him look stupid, because her eyes were laughing even if she wasn’t. God, how the hell could people around here always be so calm? It was actually starting to get really infuriating, as if nobody besides him knew how awful the world really was.

“Hgrnnn,” Wolverine finally grunted in assent, swallowing and reaching for the next piece of meat.

He heard the footsteps, but the distinct lack of smell was the giveaway. That woman - the professor called her Raven, but for some reason everyone else called her Mystique, and he couldn’t quite figure out why - was an odd case to say the least, and something about her raised his hackles. She didn’t have any scent at all, and he never saw her talking to anyone besides Xavier. But at least she didn’t usually hang around where he was. Like now - she simply collected a box of lemon tea from a cupboard and left again.

“Jean has asked me to check in with you,” Ororo finally admitted.

Wolverine wasn’t surprised, but it still annoyed him. He didn’t want her, he wanted Dr. Grey. He growled again, this time adding a note of obvious hostility.

“Relax, Logan. She is simply occupied helping Hank give the children their check-ups. She knows you enjoy her presence very much, and hasn’t abandoned you.”

Now he outright snarled, turning with his fists clenched and ready to release his claws. This woman thought she knew him, and god it was pissing him off. Even now, though, she looked serene. Wolverine hated that, too. His wrists were lining up without even thinking about it.

“It’s alright,” Ororo tried to assure him, holding her hands out. Hmm, Dr. Grey must’ve told her to do that. “I do not mean to provoke you, Logan. I’m simply letting you know what’s going on.”

_Fuck off! FUCK! OFF! NOW!_

Wolverine bristled, flicking the blades free with a noise too loud to be a snarl but too quiet to be a full-on roar. This was the last warning he’d give her, and apparently she finally took the hint, because she left after that. Even once Ororo was gone, though, something was setting him off. Abandoning his half-assed attempt at lunch, Logan regained control and flexed his arms to let the claws back in, but his body stayed tense as he moved toward the door and began sniffing for threats.

 **_Problem, find problem, fix problem,_ ** Wolverine was muttering in his head.

 _No fuckin' shit,_ Logan snapped.

**_No blood-scent, no fear-scent. Rival-scent, but not too fresh. Cub-scent, fresh, cubs are not in danger. Female-scent, fresh, not good for mate. Find different female-scent, find a mate for us. Need mate, not so soon, but sometime._ **

_You shut the fuck up over there, please? Tryn’a concentrate here, and you ain’t helpin’._

**_Meat-scent, old meat but still fresh. We were eating it. Grass-scent, from female-not-fit-for-mate, fresh, she goes outside often. Hmm, grass, prey, chase some prey maybe. Later. Not hungry now._ **

_Hey,_ Logan barked, _if you ain’t gonna be quiet, can you at least be fuckin’ helpful? Jesus fuck you’re annoyin’._

**_Helping us right now._ **

_No you ain’t._

Drawing a deep lungful of air through his nose, Logan could only feel more and more frustrated when there was exactly nothing out of the ordinary in the air. What the hell, he knew _something_ was wrong, but there didn’t seem to be a trace of it as far as he could tell.

Grumbling something to himself about figuring it out later, he wolfed down the rest of the pork without any interest in it at all before slipping out the building and into the woodsy area around it. The last time he’d climbed a tree it hadn’t gone especially well for him, but it was a nice day and his clothes were dry, so he didn’t worry about it as he scrambled and jumped his way up until he was at least 25 feet off the ground. Any higher and the branches weren’t thick enough to hold his metal-ridden body, but this was fine. He could be alone here.

Logan rested his back against the trunk, closing his eyes and opening the rest of his senses to just _feel_ the forest around him. It felt much more like home than his nest in the mansion, wild and open. For a while he could just be here in the tree and pretend he was somewhere deep in the wilderness, with no humans around for dozens of miles. Maybe in Canada.

 _The fuck? Where’d that come from?_ Logan wondered. Something about Canada just seemed friendlier, somehow. Was he from there? Was that where he’d been born? There was no way to know. The X-Men weren’t even sure what his real name was. Dr. Grey had told him about an electronic file saying that the name _Logan_ was an alias, but any details about his origins and legal information had been thoroughly redacted.

_*Logan?*_

He jumped and almost went plunging to the ground when Dr. Grey’s mind-voice called out in his head.

_Yeah?_

_*Where are you, are you okay?*_

_Yup. I’m fantastic._

_*You do realize I’m psychic and I know when you’re lying, right?*_

Logan snorted, but even though it was out loud he thought she still knew.

_Yeah. Somethin’s buggin’ me, that’s all. Don’t know what the hell it is, though._

_*Storm told me she went to check on you and you were about two seconds away from impaling her.*_

_Yeah, well, that’ll learn her to not pester me when I’m eatin’. I guess you ain’t busy no more, neither, if you’re chattin’ me up right now._

_*I have a few minutes, I’m eating my lunch right now. Can you tell me why you’re upset? I asked Storm to do your check-in, you know. If I wasn’t swamped looking down a bunch of teenagers’ throats, I would’ve come myself.*_

There was a hint of laughter in Dr. Grey’s words, which drew a rare smile from him. Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn’t remember smiling at all before this. The smirk he’d given Rogue earlier didn’t really count. Logan decided that, yes, he would tell her.

_Darlin’, truth is I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what’s pissin’ me off right now. Just pissed today, I guess._

_*Okay. Do you want me to look at your mind later tonight and see if I can find it for you?*_

_Uh… no offense, doc, but I ain’t real thrilled ’bout that idea. Nothin’ to do with you, just don’t feel comfortable with someone else in there._

There was a long pause.

_*Alright, if you’re sure. If you really need me for something I should be done in three or four hours, and you can always tell Charles, too.*_

_Yeah… take care'a the cubs, doc. I ain’t doin’ too bad, just sittin’ in the woods right now. Cubs take priority._

_*Okay, if you’re sure. I’m here for you, Logan.*_

_I know, darlin’. No rush._


	8. Chances In An Existential Hell

Things were probably about to get bad for Logan, and he knew it. Was it because he’d been with these people for four and a half months without incident and he knew one was overdue? Well, a little. Was it because by now they all tried talking to him and got frustrated when he didn’t answer their million obnoxious questions? That sucked, but it was just a nuisance. Was it because he still woke up screaming every night? That wasn’t likely to go away anytime soon, but he’d never had premonitions, so that didn’t mean anything except that his obviously sick brain was obviously sick.

No, actually, Logan knew shit was getting bad because this morning before breakfast he was jerking himself off in the shower and thinking about Dr. Grey.

His room smelled like her, because she usually ate with him there, and so did his sheets because she always changed them when he woke up from his nightmares drenched in cold sweat. To help him fall asleep again after, she’d sit on the edge of his mattress and stroke down his hair. She had such soft, pretty hands. Logan wished it was her gentle touch around his cock instead of his own rough palm.

 _You ain’t s’posed to be doin’ this, bub,_ he growled to himself. _She ain’t for you. The doc deserves somethin’ better, a guy who ain’t all fucked up in the head… You’ll just ruin her._

His prick didn’t agree with him, though, and Logan bit back a rough snarl as he finally let himself go. He’d feel it if anyone was poking around in his head, so he was safe from the various telepaths, but that didn’t make the walls any less thin.

Logan made sure to remove any trace of his prior activities from his skin before drying himself and getting dressed. He was being dragged off somewhere this morning by a pack of teenage girls, because apparently there was some kind of event or something and Dr. Grey wanted him to at least stand in the corner looking nice. It was supposed to be good for him to practice keeping his cool around huge groups of strangers, but he had a lot of doubts considering all the guests would be allowed to have alcohol but he wasn’t.

“Don’t make faces, you’ll be fine,” Dr. Grey smiled as he left his bedroom, grumbling unhappily.

“Ain’t even gone anyplace yet, an’ I a’ready fuckin’ hate it,” Logan argued.

He only became more convinced of his impending doom when Kitty and Jubilee grabbed his wrists and started pulling him up the hall, while Rogue and Dr. Grey followed after, laughing.

“Oh come _on,_ Wolvie, stop dragging your feet,” Jubilee grinned, pulling harder.

“This ain’t funny, doc! Thought you’re against torture an’ all that!” Logan snapped, twisting his neck to glare at her over his shoulder.

“You’ll live,” she replied calmly, her eyes amused. “We need to get you some nicer clothes, and it’ll probably only take a few minutes. An hour, tops. Besides, you should be flattered that some of your pack’s _cubs_ want your love and attention.”

“Don’t you three got boyfriends to torment instead?” Logan grunted, glowering so hard that it was giving him a headache.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Jubilee shrugged. “KitKat and Rouge already dragged Piotr and Bobby up and down the mall on Friday night, so now we get you!”

“Yeah, look, you’re way too damn excited ’bout this,” he snapped, wincing as the Asian-American teenager tugged a little too hard for his wrist joint.

“Oh, hush,” Kitty chided, offering a grin that was entirely too pleased with herself. “You’re already gorgeous on your own, and by the time we get done with you, you’ll have women falling over themselves inviting you into their beds. What more could you want?”

“A raw steak an' a twenty-four pack'a Molson to make up for this shit?” Logan suggested. “’Sides, if I ever need a good fuck, just hire a hooker. Way easier an’ they don’t expect nothin’ but a couple hundred bucks.”

The four females gave him a bunch of crap for that statement, but finally stopped once they’d crammed him into the front passenger side of the car and started hauling him off.

“Don’t worry, Wolvie, we’ll let you keep the ‘tall dark and scary’ thing,” Jubilee announced from the seat behind his.

“I - stop callin’ me that,” Logan cut himself off.

“I promise, this event _isn’t_ going to kill you,” Dr. Grey smiled. “You just have to stand in the back of the room and try not to growl at the donors too much, and once I’ve gone around and said my obligatory hellos to all of them I’ll hang out in the corner with you for the rest of it. Okay?”

“Whatever,” he grunted, shrugging. ( _Yes,_ he secretly though once he was sure she wasn’t reading him. _Don’t gotta be alone in that hell. Just gotta make sure I don’t get a hard-on next to her, that’s all._ ) “Still ain’t lookin’ forward to this.”

“So noted,” Dr. Grey answered in a flat, dismissive tone that said she was sick of him bitching and moaning about it. “Besides, your other mind keeps telling you to find a mate, this might help you do that.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Logan practically screamed, his heart stopping in terror. “You heard that?”

“Well, you weren’t thinking about much else,” she chuckled. “Besides, it was a joke.”

“Yeah, well…” he muttered. “Don’t need that kinda complications, too much work an' havin’ to share my feelin’s an' shit. Ain’t worth it.”

The three teenage girls hassled him incessantly after that - well, Kitty and Jubilee did most of it, though Rogue chimed in once in awhile - until Dr. Grey pulled them into the parking lot of a long building that was apparently called a “mall.” Logan hadn’t seen one before, but the trio of bosom buddies talked about going to such places constantly. As the five of them walked in through the glass doors, he immediately stiffened at the number of people inside.

“Yeah, look, I ain’t doin’ this,” Logan growled, starting to back up reflexively until Dr. Grey’s gentle touch on his elbow made him pause.

“It’ll be fine,” she insisted, her voice tender and patient. Sometimes he wanted to hate that tone she used with him, because from anyone else it would’ve been incredibly condescending, but he found there was nothing about her that he wasn’t enamored with. “Just watch them for a second, okay? They’re families, out for a trip to spend time together. See? Half of them are little kids. They won’t hurt you.”

“Hgrn,” Logan growled stubbornly, relaxing about three hairs but begrudgingly allowing the small pack of females to pull him into the store.

For a torturous eternity after that, he was forced to stand there quietly as they took way too much time selecting several different button shirts and pairs of pants for him to try. Dr. Grey patted his back or shoulder every so often to try and keep him calm, and Rogue mostly just watched and occasionally offered a word of advice regarding color, but the other two were giggling and entirely too pleased with themselves.

After that, Logan discovered a new level of hell when Jubilee shoved him into one of the fitting rooms and they made him try on all these clothes. Kitty insisted that he come out so they could inspect and “critique” him, which made him increasingly uncomfortable.

“Okay! Enough!” Logan shouted eventually, trying to shake them away from him. “How’s this s’posed to be helpful again?” he demanded, turning to Dr. Grey. “Don’t fuckin’ feel like gettin’ paraded ’round in stupid clothes like this!”

“Remember what I said earlier? About how I’m bribing you like a child?” she teased, smirking at him.

“Uh, that if I keep my shit together and just get through it you’ll talk Chuck into lettin’ me build my own nest out in the woods.”

“Aww, you’re leaving us, Wolvie?” Jubilee protested.

“Just don’t like bein’ crammed in with all’a them geeks, ’specially Boy Scout an’ his bitchy girlfriend.”

“We don’t like Emma either,” Kitty replied. “Can’t you just make _them_ move out and stay with us?”

Logan couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. “Sorry, kid. Need my own space. Keep almost stabbin’ the doc in my sleep, too.”

“Can we come hang out with you?”

He snorted. “The hell is up with you kids? I ain’t cuddly or nothin’, an’ I know I ain’t much fun, neither.”

“Yeah, but we like watching horror movies with you because you’re way scarier than anything that’s on the screen,” Jubilee grinned. “And the comparison Pyro made when you watched Elm Street with us.”

“I wasn’t there for that, what happened?” Dr. Grey asked, looking thoroughly entertained by this story. He knew she was just relieved that he’d calmed down again.

“It ain’t as great as it sounds,” Logan shrugged. “Pyro an’ Bobby started fightin’ ’bout who’d win if that Kruger guy came after me. Just had to point out all'a my dreams are a’ready nightmares an’ my skin actually grows back.”

“Plus every chick in school has the hots for you, Wolvie,” Jubilee chortled. “I don’t think they’d be going after Freddy Kruger like that.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and ducking back into the fitting room to change back into his normal clothes. He could still hear everything, though.

“Stop hitting on him, Jubes,” Kitty was chiding. “He’s _way_ older than you. Right, Dr. Grey?”

“Well, we’re not sure, exactly…”

“See?” Jubilee shot back. Logan stifled an exasperated sigh at what they were saying to each other. He _wasn’t_ into jailbait. “Once I graduate-”

“Hey, you two know he’s probably listening to you fight right now?” Rogue pointed out.

 _Thanks, kid,_ Logan thought with a smirk. Even in such a short time, that girl had really grown on him. He felt almost like they were blood relatives, that she was his niece or daughter or something. Which was weird, because he didn’t want to have kids, ever. But there was something about her that was absurdly likable, even to him. He’d never heard a bad thing about her. _Yeah, that’s me for sure, “Uncle Logan,”_ he scoffed at himself. _Fuck. I’m gettin’ soft. That ain’t gonna be good if I get myself into shit again._

“Crap, you think he really heard me say that, chica?” Jubilee squealed, suddenly sounding panicked.

 _I did,_ Logan thought hard at Dr. Grey, trying hard not to chuckle.

“Every word,” he heard her pass along. “Logan also wants you to know that he’s not into jailbait.”

Oh, shit, was Dr. Grey in his head this whole time? He hoped not.

_*Relax, Logan. I haven’t seen anything but your surface thoughts.*_

Once it was decided which clothes they were getting for Logan, they looked at ties for him as well as a new belt. That part wasn’t nearly as bad, and only took a few minutes, but once they’d paid for everything they walked across almost the entire complex to find him shoes, too. And dear _god,_ this was getting more and more painful by the second in every sense of the word.

“Too fuckin' tight,” Logan growled for at least the fifth time as they tried to cram one of his massive paws into something that no sane person would ever walk around in.

“Well, jeez, Wolvie! It’s a wonder you don’t just walk around barefoot!” Jubilee grumbled, putting the dress shoes back and resuming her search.

“Dr. Grey, what size are his feet? I know you gave him team boots…” Kitty frowned.

“Twelve wide,” she answered, chuckling a little.

“It ain’t funny,” Logan snapped, clenching his fists in frustration. “Just wear the damn boots, not like people’re gonna be starin’ at my fuckin’ feet anyway.”

“He has a point, Jubes,” Rogue agreed.

“Hmph,” Jubilee grumbled. “Fine, then. They just don’t make water skis big enough for you, Wolvie.”

After that, they were essentially done with him, though Kitty insisted on getting him some kind of cologne that was so strong he almost thought his lungs would collapse from it. He was dragged through a different clothing store as the girls tried on just about every formal dress in the place, then started bickering with each other over which one looked good on which teen and what colors/necklines/whatever all else did or didn’t work. After just five minutes he lost track of what they were talking about, and trying to untangle it all was making his head hurt.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how much longer do I gotta put up with this shit?” Logan muttered, directing the question towards the only other adult in the area.

“If they keep having too much fun with being indecisive, I’ll reign them in when we hit twenty minutes,” Dr. Grey smiled, only half-joking. She squeezed his shoulder. “Eyes on the prize, your very own nest, remember? I might even come over some nights so we can watch hockey and drink too much beer.”

Logan smirked at that; part of his “therapy,” aside from the obvious things and the painful outings like this one, was that Dr. Grey would just laze around with him. She’d watch Rangers games with him, they’d sit and read together, or even just talk about nothing.

Her hand lingered a moment longer than normal, but Logan didn’t say anything. She was his doctor, sure, but she was also his friend. He knew she’d never touch him with the intent to harm, and even if he wasn’t lusting after her the way he was, he wouldn’t have minded anyway.

 **_Not lust,_ ** Wolverine growled, suddenly materializing inside the metal walls of his skull. **_Potential mate. Best option as potential mate. She understands us._ **

_Shut the fuck up, you idiot! She’s standin’ right here an’ I don’t need her hearin’ this shit from you!_

**_Need to find mate soon. Have good territory and good nest. Abundant prey. Now find mate, grow pack with cubs._ **

_Shut. The fuck. UP!_

Logan beat one of his fists into the side of his head, trying to silence the animal. He hated that part of him. It was a disturbed and broken thing, and even if he couldn’t escape it, that didn’t mean he needed to put up with it, either. He just wanted it to be quiet.

“Are you okay?”

Dr. Grey’s voice broke him back into the real world and he shrugged.

“Um, yeah, why? You in my head right now?”

“No, you just looked like you were thinking too hard for a second. There was practically steam coming off your forehead,” she joked.

Logan smirked in spite of himself. God, he wished he could hate her, this whole friendship bullshit made him feel weak and vulnerable. But Dr. Grey was the first person who’d ever given a damn about him, and despite his brain having more holes than Swiss cheese she’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to help him get better. Until her, nobody ran after him when he got in trouble. Nobody comforted him after his nightmares. Nobody ate with him just because they enjoyed his company.

“Just understandin’ a couple things,” Logan shrugged once he’d thought of a reply. “Or tryin’ to, anyway.”

Dr. Grey looked like she was about to say something, but their conversation was brought to a screeching halt when the three teenage girls came prancing back over.

“Okay,” Kitty grinned. Oh, god, he could already tell this wasn’t anything good. “Logan, obviously you would never, ever, ever do this, but our boyfriends aren’t here so you have to tell us: on a scale of one to ten, how sexy are we like this? Like, do we look bangable?”

“This better be a fuckin’ joke right now,” he warned, dropping his voice down into his chest so that it would sound threatening. “What fuckin’ part'a ‘I ain’t into jailbait’ do you not get? Doc, I can’t deal with this bullshit no more, I’mma wait in the car.”

Without staying to hear her protest, Logan marched his ass out of the store and back to the parking lot. He leaned heavily against the vehicle to settle in for a lot of boredom, and by the time the four females emerged from the mall he was almost done with his third cigar.

“We finally fuckin’ done here?” Logan growled once they were within earshot.

Dr. Grey came to stand at his shoulder, folding her arms: “Jubilee, Kitty? Is there something you’d like to say, now?”

It was actually really funny the way she was talking to them like they were preschoolers, but Logan clamped down his amusement and just kept his iron grimace on the pair. They were both staring at their shoes.

“We’re sorry, Logan,” Kitty mumbled. “We were just trying to tease you and stuff. We weren’t trying to be mean or make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee nodded. “We were being jerks to you, Wolvie.”

He snorted, getting into the car without a word after it had been unlocked. He’d let them stew in fear a little, just to make sure the message got across. The ride back was spent in uncomfortable silence, and once they finally got to the mansion Logan all but sprinted to his nest. He’d had way too much human interaction for one day, and if Dr. Grey was _really_ going to make him go to this stupid fundraising thing, he was going to get good and smashed by drinking his weight in Jack Daniels.

Dr. Grey trailed after him with his new attire, but on the walk to the third floor he managed to convince her that forcing him to wear that cologne would incapacitate him for several days.

Logan grumbled a lot when she insisted he needed a trim, but he was actually perfectly fine sitting under her attentive hands and just listening to the scissors while she touched up his haircut. They didn’t talk, but it was a contented quietness between them. She liked to take care of him and he liked letting her, though he’d always complain for the sake of his reputation.

“How’s it comin’?” Logan questioned after a long while. He wasn’t impatient, though, just mildly curious.

“You’re almost done,” Dr. Grey assured him. “Your hair is really soft, I bet women used to touch your head a lot.”

“Don’t remember,” he shrugged, though there was nothing bitter in his voice. “Don’t care too much, neither. Why, you like my hair, doc?”

“A little,” she admitted. Even without looking he could hear her smiling. “You feel like a puppy or a stuffed toy. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone you’re all fluffy,” she joked, making him chuckle.

“Bet your hair feels real nice, too,” Logan commented without thinking. “Uh… shit, sorry ’bout that. I ain’t gonna start grabbin’ your hair.”

“Well, Scott never said much about it, and I was with him for a long time. So I don’t really remember if anyone’s had a thing for my hair.”

“You dated that guy?” he snorted. “Man’s got a stick up his ass that's got a stick up its ass. You finally get sick'a it or somethin’?”

“No, we… it’s not a very interesting story. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Nah, that’s a’right. It ain’t none’a my business.”

Her soft hands brushed the loose hair from his shoulders and back, making him fight not to tense his muscles. It was just lust; he certainly wasn’t just enjoying having her here with him, wasn’t feeling warm and comfy at the fact that she was nice to him for the sake of being nice. Just lust. He could control lust. He wasn’t some pansy-ass who just wanted to spend time with a woman even if it didn’t end in sex.

 **_Stupid, weak animal,_ ** Wolverine sneered. **_Potential mate. Best potential mate. We need her._ **

_Go fuck yourself with some rebar,_ Logan spat. _Don’t give a shit what you think._

“Do you want to inspect?” Dr. Grey asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Logan paced into the bathroom and scanned his reflection briefly. “They teach you to cut hair in medical college?”

“No, but I used to cut Scott’s hair sometimes. The first time I tried it we practically had to shave him bald because it was so bad.”

Logan chuckled, his eyes finding hers in the mirror. “It’s okay, I think you did fine, darlin’.”

He crammed himself into his dress clothes, letting her straighten and smooth out the white button shirt before looping his tie around his neck. He had no idea how to tie one, but he didn’t object to her standing so close to him. Her skin smelled nice, actually. Not because of perfume or whatever soap she bathed with, though thankfully she used very mild products that didn’t assault his sensitive nose. But just because it was _her,_ her soft flesh that he wanted to caress before-

 _NO!_ Logan thought sharply to himself, stomping down on the images in his mind.

“There, you’re done,” Dr. Grey smiled, lowering her hands from where she’d adjusted his shirt collar. “Don’t worry, I’ll have a talk with the girls again to leave you alone. You won’t have to be nervous about looking so good.”

Logan wasn’t sure if that was a joke, but he smirked anyway. _She thinks I look good. Wait, fuck, FUCK, stop thinkin’, stupid! I don’t need nobody, bad shit’ll happen to them eventually without any’a my help. Keep her safe by stayin’ away from her._

“Yeah, those two need to keep the hell away from me for awhile,” he grunted. “What’s their deal, anyhow? I ain’t really thrilled 'bout every little girl in the school checkin’ out my ass in the hallways.”

“Well, in their defense, your jeans are kind of tight,” Dr. Grey teased, earning herself a half-amused and half-embarrassed snort. “It’s just teenage hormones, Logan. They’ll stop on their own. Besides, if we can convince Charles to let you have your own hideout in the woods, you probably won’t see them at all unless you come into the mansion for something.”

“You don’t want me to do this, doc.”

“What?”

“Your, uh, your voice. An' your smell. I know you don’t want me away from here. But why? Give you a lot more time for all’a your other stuff, right? Won’t get woke up by me screamin’ no more, neither.”

“I guess I’m worried that you won’t be ready for a while and you’re trying to rush things without thinking about them first. I know you’re probably really frustrated with everything, but you still need a lot of help and I don’t think you should be left by yourself for a while yet. Don’t get me wrong, the amount of progress you’ve made in such a short amount of time is incredible. But I don’t want to bullshit you, okay? It’s going to be several years before you’ve made a complete recovery. I can’t stop you if it’s what you really want, but… I just don’t want you to hurt yourself worse by accident, okay?”

The truthfulness in her sweet scent and the concern in her words hit Logan with a jolt, and even though he wanted to keep her out of danger by getting her away from him, he suddenly felt like a dick. She thought he was running away from her because he was annoyed.

“Look, I… you been bent over backwards for me since I got here, so I guess I owe you. Just not used to livin’ like this. I still think all this’s kinda wasted on a worthless dipshit like me, but I don’t want you to think I ain’t, um, grateful… or whatever. So I guess… I guess I could stick around a little longer. Since you want me to better an’ all.”

God, Logan hated trying to say all that. He never had the right words for things like this and he knew it.

“I think you’re making the right call, Logan.”

“Well, you’re the doc, doc. Only doc who ain’t hell-bent on torturin’ me, too. That counts for somethin’ in my book, darlin’.”

Dr. Grey smiled in reply, and damn, but that smile did things to him.

“I’m also your friend, you know. You can call my by my first name instead of my title.”

“Okay. Jean.” He paused and glanced away for a second, but ultimately couldn’t resist smiling back. “Since you brought it up, though, just wanna say thanks. For bein’ my friend an’ takin’ care of me an’ all that. I know I ain’t the easiest person to deal with.”

“It’s nothing,” Jean brushed it off. Then she smirked the way he usually did. “So now that I know you actually listen to my medical advice, are you going to stop smoking so much?”

Logan knew it was asked sarcastically, so he didn’t feel bad about barking a laugh. “Not a chance in hell, darlin’.”


	9. The Cost

“Come in,” Charles called through the door before Jean had a chance to knock.

“I’m just here with the update,” she began once the door was closed. “Kitty looked at my computer on Sunday and figured out what was wrong with it, so I can start printing them again.”

“Yes, I see,” he replied, smiling a little and nodding at the green plastic folder in her hands. The expression faded almost immediately, though. _*He hasn’t shown any signs of improvement, has he?*_

They began speaking telepathically because no matter what floor he was on, Logan always seemed to know when people had been discussing him and exactly what they’d said.

_*Well, his PTSD-related anxiety attacks are still becoming less frequent and less severe. We seem to have identified the majority of his stress triggers by now, so they’re easy to avoid. He’s also stopped having separation anxiety most of the time when I run errands without him. An entire work day is his next goal.*_

_*And… what of his dissociation?*_

Jean sighed, shaking her head briefly and tucking the folder under her arm as she sat in front of her mentor’s desk.

_*Logan still loses focus on the world around him when he has conversations with himself. Professor, I… I’m starting to feel very concerned. Every time he enters the state of altered consciousness, it takes longer and longer to reach him. And when it happens, it’s like his mind is completely walled off from me. I can’t enter his thoughts to help him at all, or hear what he’s… discussing. Every time I ask him about it, he won’t explain anything except that he’s talking to “the Wolverine.”*_

_*I see.*_ Professor Xavier paused for a moment in thought. _*I spoke with Hank yesterday while you were ambulating Logan on the grounds like you asked. He told me that the diagnostic process regarding psychiatric disorders is far from perfect on the best days. Unfortunately, DID is considered especially controversial. Researchers still have yet to reach a consensus as to whether dissociation is a condition on its own or merely a severe symptom of other illnesses.*_

 _*What about…*_ Jean’s stomach clenched, but she had to ask. _*What about when I was dealing with Phoenix? Hank told me that it was very similar to dissociation until you were able to help me cooperate with my mutation. Could that be what Logan is facing, too?*_

_*In Logan’s case, I doubt it. In the beginning of your process to coexist with Phoenix, you were unaware of its existence, at least consciously. Logan has always been aware of his mutation’s effects. Given the data we extracted from Alkali Lake, we know that he was forcibly brainwashed, and it’s unlikely he will ever recall his prior life beyond a feeling of familiarity should he encounter something reminiscent of it. His healing factor can correct an incredible amount of damage on a cellular level, but restored brain cells would not contain his previous memories.*_

_*I tried explaining that to him a while ago, actually, but he rejected the idea. He’s going to keep looking for evidence of who he was no matter how pointless it is.*_

_*Yes, I know. Actually, I was using this as an example of the paradox we face attempting a formal diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder. Given that he will never remember his childhood in any form, there is no possibility for his mental health problems to have been rooted in childhood trauma. One potential explanation is that after his personality was obliterated, his time in the bunker was essentially his childhood. But when we recovered him, his motor skills and desperation spoke of a man broken by the world even before his torture.*_

_*In the beginning he understood certain things through touch, though,*_ Jean pointed out. _*So it could be that his personality wasn’t entirely destroyed. There may still be fragments in his subconscious that he suppressed… could that cause such a disorder to manifest?*_

 _*It certainly sounds likely, yes.*_ There was another long pause while they mulled over each other’s words until Xavier spoke again. _*In your weekly summaries, you’ve noted on multiple occasions that he’s expressed a great deal of self-loathing, and that if he had the ability to successfully commit suicide he would have. Logan is always aware of his gifts, as well as the trouble he’s been through on their account. The procedural notes on his behavior from the lab experiments make consistent references to Logan being driven into a destructive rage. As far as they observed, he was operating purely on his predatory instincts without the ability to comprehend or reason. To me, that suggests his dissociation was present even before he was captured. The “berserker rage,” as they termed it, is therefore the manifestation of his alternate state of consciousness. If this is true, it means that Logan does_ not _hate himself, does_ not _wish to destroy himself, but rather that he hates and wishes to destroy what he views as his other personality - the Wolverine.*_

 _*So… you’re saying he_ does _have DID?*_ Jean clarified.

_*Beyond reasonable doubt, though I confess the pieces did not fall into place until this conversation. Logan will require extensive therapy to overcome it, as well as learn the appropriate coping skills. Of course, that means you’ll have to almost exclusively treat him for another six months at least… and even before that, you’ll need to persuade him to accept his condition. I know you’re quite aware of this fact, but it bears repeating that Logan is dangerously unwell. He’s convinced himself that the Wolverine is a separate entity, and in doing so frees himself from certain responsibilities or periods of trauma.*_

Jean closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before nodding, forcing herself to accept the sickness in her friend’s mind. “I see. Thank you, sir. I’ll go talk to him.”

Predictably, after his “nest” and the TV room came up negative, she found him gorging on meat in the kitchen. As soon as she entered through the doorway, Logan raised his face from the half-cooked beef ribs he was attacking, offered a brief grin as a means of greeting, and then resumed his meal.

“How’s it going?” she asked, sitting across the table from him.

“Grrmph,” Logan grunted. He swallowed. “It’s goin’, I guess. How ’bout you, darlin’? Done jaw-jackin’ with Chuck?”

“Yeah, we…” Jean felt the pleasant expression leave her. “Logan, we came to a conclusion about why your nightmares have been getting worse and you keep forgetting conversations and whole days. Those are the conversations and days when you’re out in the woods.”

“So? I like it there.”

“We’re fairly certain that you have dissociative identity disorder.”

“Never heard'a it,” Logan shrugged indifferently before tearing off another chunk of beef and chewing.

“It used to be known as multiple personality disorder. You told me you talk to the Wolverine in your mind a lot, which was what concerned me the most. Do you know that he’s not really there?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, still not seeming to give a damn. “I know he’s part'a my brain an’ I ain’t gonna get rid’a him. Don’t mean I gotta like him or be nice to him, though. Jackass's way more trouble'n he’s worth.”

“No, Logan, you see what I mean? You use separate pronouns, ‘he,’ ‘him.’ Realizing something you do is unhealthy doesn’t make it any less harmful.”

“Dunno what else I’m s’posed to do ’bout it,” Logan admitted quietly, staring at his hands. “Can’t let go'a what they did to me, Jeannie, but… can’t fix it, neither. Only way I can even get up most days is how I say to myself those are Wolverine’s nightmares. I don’t got those nightmares. They ain’t there. My instincts, senses… the healin’ an’ claws an’ memories, the triggers… they ain’t mine. They’re Wolverine’s. Belong to him. Can’t be that way. I ain’t that way, he’s that way. Can’t do nothin’ to fix anythin’ but just say it ain’t real.”

Logan had been under her care for more than half a year now, and Jean hadn’t thought her heart could break for him any more than it had already, but once again it was proving her wrong.

_Beautiful, broken man._

She’d had that thought about him before, but it still took her by surprise. Not just in the sense that Logan was physically attractive (which he was), but also because in spite of everything there was still a soft part of himself that he buried deep inside. That tender spot was still easily hurt, though, even if he didn’t show it. In spite of his life, the cruelty and violence that always seemed to find him the hard way, all he wanted was to be left alone. Because if he got involved, he got involved all the way and cared too much. That caring always cost him, and he didn’t want it.

Jean got out of her chair and walked to his end of the table. He’d stopped eating several minutes ago, the heavy conversation smothering his appetite, but his fingers were still greasy with meat juice and some kind of seasoning. She didn’t care, though, and took his hands in hers.

“Hey.” She squeezed gently and he looked up, where before his head had been hanging. “I know it’s been kind of a long time already, so it probably doesn’t seem like it, but this won’t last forever, okay? And you don’t have to fix anything on your own, because you’ve got me to help you. It won’t always be this hard.”

“Jesus, darlin’, you always got some pep-talk waitin’ for me when I’m bein’ a downer?” Logan mumbled, but there was slight note of humor in his pretty hazel eyes. He probably wouldn’t like it if she made that comment about his eyes out loud, though.

“Something like that,” Jean teased back, getting him to his feet for a quick, but still sincere, hug.

Pulling back, Logan’s warm palms slipped down her arms and found her hands again, hanging on gently for a long moment. He never looked away.


	10. Want Or Need

A sigh. “What do you want, Scott?”

Logan didn’t have to press his ear to the wall to hear everything going on in Jean’s room. Between his enhanced senses, the flimsy sheetrock and her living right next to him, he had it covered.

“I just wanted to tell you first so that it’s not too… _impersonal_ when everyone else finds out, but Emma and I are going to get married.”

“Okay. That doesn’t really affect my life, does it?”

“Jean, please don’t-”

“What?” Logan could feel her last nerve get ground. “Don’t _what,_ Scott? It’s your life and I don’t care what you do with it. If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I really don’t have time right now, because I’m working.”

“Jeannie-”

“Do _not._ Call me that. Ever. _Again._ I just said I’m working, so please leave me be.”

“Can you just tell me what’s going on with you? Even after… even after we ended things, you said you’d still be my friend, but you haven’t said a word to me in more than a month. C’mon, Jean, talk to me. Please don’t do this, it’s not helping anyone.”

“For the love of god, Scott, how many times do I have to say that I’m busy? I have to write about a thousand emails to the directors of mental institutions for advice without letting on who my patient is in case the government is still looking for him. I _also_ have to read up on the issues from textbooks, because what I get from them will just be tips and experience and if I don’t do at least some of my own research I could just hurt Logan more. I have to work with Hank during what _little_ free time I have at this point to see if there’s any way to give him medications without it getting filtered by his healing factor or overwhelming his body and poisoning him. So _what,_ Scott? _What do you want?!_ ”

Logan flinched, and he knew the team leader probably did, too. He’d never heard Jean yell like that before. Was he doing this to her? Was his sick mind too much for her to handle?

“You can’t fix him. You know that, right?” Scott’s voice was very quiet, but there was nothing soft or gentle about it. “It’s like you’re trying to teach a fish how to climb a tree. Logan just is that way, and he’ll always be that way. He’s just an animal. I know they beat him for a long time and I feel very bad about that, but it doesn’t change that all he knows how to do is kill and destroy. You can’t teach him to be a person, Jean. He can’t change.”

A loud crack echoed behind the wall - the unmistakable noise of someone getting bitch-slapped.

“Get out.”

“You know he wants you, right?” Scott still wasn’t loud, but his words were like daggers. “He’s only letting you that close because he wants to get you in bed with him. There’s no way a beast like Logan feels anything but lust or rage. You saw how he was when we found him. He still is that way, I guarantee it. He just knows how to talk now so he thinks he has a shot at getting in your pants. I can’t believe he hasn’t tried already.”

Logan heard a yelp of surprise and then two crashes - the first when Scott went smashing through Jean’s bedroom door, and the second as the thin man collided with the wall in the hallway. Her feet hadn’t made any noise to indicate movement, so she must’ve thrown her ex-boyfriend with her telekinesis.

 _God dammit,_ Logan couldn’t help but think, sinking down onto the edge of his mattress. _Hope she don’t believe what that fuckwit said ’bout me… fuck, who’m I kiddin’, here? Scooter’s a dickless asshole, but he got some'a those things right… I’m a fuckin’ monster an’ I don’t got no more excuses for Jeannie. Jesus, I do want her, but not like that… not just for a throw-down. Want her to just be where I am, to wanna be where I am. Fall asleep in my arms. Climb trees with me when I feel like just sittin’ in one and listenin’ to the woods. To…_

Even in his mind, Logan still couldn’t say it. Because saying it made it real, and then he could never tell himself that he was just lusting after her. So Wolverine finished the thought for him.

 **_To love us. Love us like we love her. Mate. We want her, we_ ** **need** **_her. Must have her for mate._ **

Something broke in him, then. Smacking his palms against his head several times so that he could think again, Logan silently crossed the halls to one of the storage closets. Since so many students arrived with nothing, he was able to swipe a backpack off one of the shelves and return to his room without incident. A couple changes of clothes, the half-empty bottle of liquor he kept in his dresser. Cigars.

He knew he had to leave. He’d been here for almost seven months, he couldn’t push his luck any more. If he stayed, something would happen. He couldn’t risk Jean getting hurt because of him, so the best way to protect her was to bolt before the government caught up. Besides, until now he hadn’t known the strain he’d put on her with his fucked-up brain. She didn’t need that. Didn’t need _him,_ dicking everything up for her all the time.

In the garage, as Logan tossed his pack into the passenger seat of a pickup he’d been working on, something reached for his mind.

_*I don’t suppose I can convince you to change your mind.*_

_Thanks but no thanks, Chuck. I’mma get Jean killed by bein’ here. Can’t do that, so I gotta leave. She don’t need me an’ I need her too damn much. Just… when she finds out I’m gone, tell her I’m sorry for all the problems I gave her. Also that I said thanks, y’know, ’cause she tried to help someone like me._

Mustering his focus, Logan shut his mind to avoid further argument before turning the engine and streaking away from the mansion as fast as he could.

* * *

 

Days passed, until he’d been on the road for more than two weeks. He was more or less straddling the border of Canada, only stopping long enough so that he could win fights for gas money. Whatever was left after the tank was full contributed to the growing pile of empty whisky bottles by his feet. He didn’t have a plan, or even a particular direction he felt like heading in; all he knew was that he had to keep running. They’d know he was on the run, right? Yeah, they should’ve figured it out by now. They’d chase and not go after the school. Not go after Jean.

Logan and Wolverine continued to argue back and forth in his head, but he wasn’t sure which one he was anymore. He didn’t sleep because he couldn’t take the nightmares, and when he did it was only because he dropped from exhaustion. Tonight was one of those - no fights to compete in, he’d already finished the bottle of Jack and didn’t want to go out again. Slouching a little, he closed his heavy eyes.

_...he can’t see, doesn’t think there’s anything to see. But he can hear her crying…_

_Jean? That you?_

_Logan…_

_Jean? I’m here, darlin’, where are you?_

_I didn’t want you to go. I wanted to help you get better. I couldn’t help you enough…_

_Jeannie, no, don’t think that. I had to go… I ain’t gonna let you get hurt. But they’d hurt you ’cause’a me. Can’t let them get you. Jesus… never want them to get you, baby, didn’t wanna leave you neither, but they can’t get you. You’re the only one ever gave a damn if I lived or died, an’ I ain’t even sure why… but Slim was right. I’m a fuckin’ animal, I’m a fuckin’ monster. I’m dangerous. Gotta lead them away from you, Jeannie. I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t wanna leave, wanna always be where you are, but it just ain’t safe…_

_Where are you, Logan? Where are you out there? Please come home. Come back to us._

_You hearin’ me, darlin’?_

_Logan?_

_Jean…_

_Come back, Logan…_

The next morning, when the sun rose and told his eyes to open, he woke up and realized he was crying.


	11. Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though short, this chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence and sexual assault which may be triggering. Reader discretion advised.
> 
> As always, my Sabertooth is the Liev Schreiber incarnation from *Origins* because he's way more fun than the guy from the first movie. Yeah, the guy in the first movie looked closer to the comics, but Schreiber always came across as a lot smarter (and therefore more threatening) to me.

“So SHIELD, in their infinite wisdom, neglected to inform anyone about this until they realized they couldn’t contain it on their own, but several inmates escaped from The Vault four days ago,” Scott announced in his serious-team-leader monotone. The holographic display pulled up the images as he named them. “Edward Brock, a.k.a. Venom. Mandarin, legal name unknown. Victor Creed, a.k.a. Sabertooth. Victor von Doom, a.k.a. Doctor Doom. Lilith, legal name unknown. Brock was last seen heading in the direction of San Francisco, which is consistent with his MO. The others have been less obvious, and there have been no confirmed sightings at this time.”

“So what was Fury’s excuse this time?” Emma scoffed. “They’ve _never_ been able to contain Venom, and when it’s during a mass escape like this…?”

“Do we have any indication what Creed is up to?” Hank frowned behind his glasses. “During his capture he was affiliated with Magneto, but Lehnsherr has been in government custody outside of the continental United States for some time. It’s unlikely Creed would attempt a rescue.”

“Well, he’ll probably have a vendetta against us for handing him over to SHIELD in the first place,” Jean suggested. “And if he’s been out for four days, my guess is that he’s in the area.”

“It’s our best bet, given his track record, but we’ll need to keep our eyes peeled for him to be sighted elsewhere.” Leave it to Scott to point out the obvious. “Creed loves violence for the sake of violence, so he could pop up pretty much anywhere and leave a trail of bodies. Emma, alert the junior team and tell them to be ready for anything. Ororo, Hank, check and make sure none of the students are missing, and tell them that we’ll have to enforce an earlier curfew. Mystique, log SHIELD’s message and start checking the national media for any indications of where he is. Remy, Jean, Kurt, and I will run a perimeter check of the grounds. Uniforms aren’t required, but bring your comms. Dismissed.”

Jean left the situation room and took the east perimeter out in the woods. Logan’s claw marks were still visible, but they were starting to fade some now that he’d been gone for almost a month. Seeing them made her sigh; she’d reached him once, about a week ago. He’d been sleeping in his truck somewhere along the border with Canada, and she’d gotten into one of his dreams.

The way Logan had talked to her then was so sad and so lonely. He thought she’d be better off without him, and he couldn’t have been more wrong. Scott’s insensitive commentary had gotten under his skin, and the pain he was in overpowered his love. Jean didn’t know if he’d listened when she’d asked him to come back, and she hadn’t been able to reach him at all since then.

Ten sharp talons suddenly dug into her shoulders, wrenching her backwards and deeper into the woods. A deep rumbling snarl accompanied it, and Jean started kicking herself. She’d been so wrapped up worrying about her missing friend that now she was getting dragged away by the bloodthirsty criminal she was supposed to be looking for.

“Where’s the runt?” Sabertooth roared, spinning Jean to pin her against a tree. He was in his tattered prison uniform and one shackle was still around his left wrist. “I know he was here, girly… them claw marks tell me everythin’. You’re a pretty one, too.” An ugly grin that showed off his incisors, which were elongated. “Bet he thinks you belong to him. Well, you ain’t his no more, frail. Now you’re _mine._ ”

Pain, fear and disgust stole Jean’s focus, and no matter how she struggled and fought she couldn’t free herself. The hooked claws gripped her between her shoulders, keeping her face-down in the dirt, and Sabertooth raked the other hand down her side. The wounds were superficial, meant to inflict pain instead of injury. Her shirt torn off, the talons ripping lines across her breast, and then _no, NO._

Jean felt numbed after that, like she was watching TV instead of feeling it happen. Like Sabertooth wasn’t getting off on her hurt and terror.

A sudden roar, but not from Sabertooth… and then he was ripped away from her. Jean curled into a ball on her side, trying to pull the shredded remains of her clothes back around herself. Raising her head slightly to look, Sabertooth was being stabbed through both lungs by… Logan? Logan had come back?

No, Jean realized dimly, Logan was hiding in a corner of his brain, not in control at all. It was Wolverine raking one trio of blades down his enemy’s face while the other rammed into the bottom of Sabertooth’s ribcage and yanked harshly upward. Wolverine shoved the bigger mutant away, quickly lifting his left boot to smash a knee almost completely in the opposite direction it was supposed to bend. Even with his leg buckling, Sabertooth hooked his sharp fingers around Wolverine’s collar bone and they both went down.

Wolverine wrenched free with an agonized howl, plunging his left claws up to his knuckles into Sabertooth’s throat before dragging them down to tear through every major artery and into the heart. It wouldn’t kill the mutant, though, so Wolverine retracted his claws and beat Sabertooth’s head until his knuckles (and his enemy’s face) were a bloody mess. Sabertooth would be unconscious for a while.

Chest heaving and coated in gore, Wolverine staggered over and dropped to his knees beside Jean. She let him gather her in his arms, and felt the switch flip in his mind when he became Logan again.

“Fuck… _fuck…_ should’a got here quicker,” he panted, running a sticky palm tenderly down the side of her face before retrieving her comm. “Scooter, Chuck, somebody, just got back. Jean’s hurt, bad. I took down some bastard an' he ain’t goin’ nowhere for now, we’re out in the woods.”

Without waiting for a reply, Logan dropped the small earpiece and shrugged off his backpack. Jean tried to protest when he peeled away the scraps of clothing from her bruised skin. “Shhh,” he whispered, unzipping his pack with one hand while still cradling her with the other. “Gonna be okay, I came back like you wanted… he ain’t gonna touch you ever again.”

Logan pulled a set of his clothes out that Jean knew were probably dirty and she went limp as he dressed her in them. They were much too baggy, especially his jeans, but she didn’t have to walk holding them up because Logan carried her back into the school. They went through the garage so that none of the students could see the drying blood they were both painted with, and ended upstairs in her bathroom.

Jean didn’t start crying until he’d turned on the water and was sitting behind her in just his boxers, slowly beginning to wipe away the grime. Hadn’t she done this for him, once? That just made her sob harder.

Thankfully, though, he didn’t say anything. If Logan had tried to talk, she would’ve only felt worse. She would’ve never guessed he’d know how to be so gentle, cleaning her skin and carefully rinsing the scratches. He paused when his hands reached her waist.

“You okay, Jeannie? Wanna… y’know, do this part yourself?” Logan murmured.

She shook her head, huddling against him. She wasn’t crying anymore, but there were still tears escaping that were indistinguishable from the spray of the shower. Jean thought she’d flinch at the touch of the washcloth, but surprisingly didn’t. Even though Logan had interrupted and Sabertooth hadn’t gotten the chance to finish his assault, she actually felt a little soothed as the evidence was washed away. She’d read accounts from sexual assault victims before, and many of them had said that no matter how much they showered they still felt “dirty.” Jean experienced a little of that now - she could never have gotten herself clean enough.

But she wasn’t cleaning herself. Logan was cleaning her. He could wipe it all from her skin like this.

When he’d finished washing her, she felt better and let him wrap her up in about six towels. Logan tugged his grubby jeans back on over his soaked underwear, then dug around for a moment. He settled behind her again, both of them sitting on the tile floor, and began carefully combing her long red hair.

“Where’d you learn this?” Jean asked after a minute.

“By watchin’ you,” Logan murmured. “Saw you doin’ it sometimes before you had breakfast with me. I kinda like it, y’know. You got real nice hair.” He was quiet for a long time before sighing slowly through his nose. “I’m sorry I left, darlin’. Walls here’re too fuckin’ thin. I heard the shit Slim said ’bout me, an’... I started figurin’ you’d know he was right ’bout some'a it. Plus, I ain’t sure the guys lookin’ for me are all dead. Didn’t want you to get hurt ’cause’a me, so I got scared an’ left.”

“It’s okay,” Jean started to say, but he cut her off.

“No, no it ain’t,” he insisted. “Should’a stayed here. Could’a stopped him, could’a kept you safe. But I didn’t, an’ if I didn’t smell the blood in the wind or got here a couple’a minutes later… Jesus. My fuckin’ fault this happened to you. I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

Logan didn’t say anything else as he finished grooming her. It hurt to move her shoulders from when Sabertooth’s talons had gripped them, so he helped her pull on a clean set of cotton pajamas and made her lay down to rest. He disappeared for a minute, returning in clothes that weren’t caked with gore so that he could curl himself around Jean with her head tucked under his scruffy chin.

“You need anythin’, Jeannie?”

“Just this,” she answered, snuggling into his strong chest and closing her eyes.

Logan rubbed his hand along her spine, letting her feel him breathe slowly and nuzzling his face into her hair. Jean had always known how wrong Scott was about him, but it had never been more apparent than it was now. He didn’t want to be attached and vulnerable like this, but since it had happened anyway he would feel it intensely. He really did love her with everything he had, and wanted to keep her safe and happy just like she’d taken care of him in the beginning.

In spite of what had happened to Jean earlier, she felt secure and comforted lying there. Logan’s powerful heartbeat thudded steadily beside her ear, and so wrapped up by his embrace and affection, she drifted into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually felt sick to my stomach when I was writing this chapter. Like that even though it's just a story I don't want it to happen. I don't like hurting these characters.


	12. Eventually...

Logan didn’t sleep at all in Jean’s room. He just lay there the entire night, adjusting slightly if she moved in her dreams but otherwise holding perfectly still. He’d never hated himself more than he did that night - he’d left to protect her but his absence had seen her viciously attacked, he’d wanted to cuddle her like this but not in the shadow of such awful circumstances. Jesus.

So Logan was immobile, just feeling Jean breathe in his arms and taking in her scent. Was it possible to hurt someone with love? He certainly thought so. If he hadn’t left… If he’d only gotten back a few minutes earlier… If he’d sprinted into the woods instead of creeping to figure out what was going on… Fuck, there was any number of ways he could’ve prevented this. The mutant - he’d later learn the brute was called Sabertooth - was being held captive inside the danger room until SHIELD arrived to collect him.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Logan whispered into her gorgeous hair, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear his own voice. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry that this happened. That I let it happen… shouldn’a left you like that. Won’t do it again, darlin’, ’cause I know better now. I ain’t gonna let nothin’ else touch you ever again.” He sucked in a breath to still the quivering feeling in his ribs. “I love you, Jeannie.”

Logan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and lightly kissed the top of her head. She was everything he wasn’t: smart, kind, gentle, caring, dependable, capable. He loved that about her. Sure, Jean was a very attractive woman, and that appealed to certain parts of him that he had trouble controlling at times. But her inner beauty was directly opposite to his own inner ugliness, and made him love her as intensely as he hated himself. She hadn’t known who he was or anything about him, but she’d taken care of him at her own expense simply because he needed help. For some reason, she even enjoyed being his friend.

There was no way Logan could ever give back on that level. Jean had helped him a hundred times more than he ever deserved, looked out for him, defended him against her colleagues, never pushing but still guiding him to make the right choices for himself.

Jean had once told him that he had more dimensions than he realized. That he listened to Beethoven and Tchaikovsky while tooling around in the garage smeared in engine oil and shirtless. That he laughed at slasher flicks with the six junior X-Men, but read Shakespeare and T. S. Elliot just because he enjoyed them. That in spite of the torture and cruelty in the lab, he’d refused to force himself on a little girl the way they’d wanted.

She shifted in his embrace, muttering in her sleep: “Logan…” She must’ve been dreaming about him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. I’m right here, I ain’t leavin’ you ever again,” he soothed, leaning towards her ear slightly. Logan stroked one of Jean’s slender arms with his finger tips for a long moment, and the tension left her.

 **_Mate,_ ** Wolverine declared.

_Absolutely fuckin’ not. Weren’t you payin’ attention, bub? You think Jeannie’s gonna want us after what happened today? Fuckin’ moron._

**_Mate,_ ** Wolverine insisted, growling. **_She is for us. Our mate. We love her, she loves us, that means she is mate._ **

_God fuckin’ dammit, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’mma beat my face into the wall until I can’t hear your yappin’ no more. An’ no, she don’t love us. Least not like that._

Logan blocked out the Wolverine’s voice, not in the mood to bicker with the animal until the sun came up. Jean and Dr. McCoy had mentioned something about psychotropic medications before he’d run off, and right now that idea was sounding better and better to him if it got the Wolverine to shut the hell up once in awhile. Maybe he’d take them up on it.

Despite holding still and being deep in thought, he immediately sensed when Jean was starting to wake up even without her moving. Logan’s internal clock said 2:43 in the morning, and that bothered him. She usually didn’t get up until about 7.

“Hey, it’s okay, shhh,” Logan whispered when she started crying into his shirt. “You’re here with me, it’s okay.”

Jean smelled like fear, so he had a pretty good guess what she’d been dreaming about. He squeezed her into his body as hard as he could without hurting her, still muttering stupid crap people said in movies that was supposed to be soothing until she settled again.

“Logan?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m glad you came back.”

“Yeah… shouldn’a left in the first place, though.”

“It’s alright. I understand why you did.”

“That don’t make it okay, though. Knowin’ why people act a certain way don’t excuse them when they fuck up.” He sighed and started gently combing his long fingers through her hair. “I fucked up… but I ain’t gonna leave you again, darlin’. Not for anythin’.”

“Does that mean you’re going to smother me?”

Logan froze at that question until he realized, much to his shock, that Jean was _teasing_ him.

“Yeah, Jeannie. I’mma be like you’re wearin’ a wool blanket inside a furnace.” They both chuckled briefly and she pulled away enough so they could see each other. He couldn’t believe she was smiling at him, but seeing it pushed back the tightness from his chest that he hadn’t noticed was there. He lightly ran the pad of his thumb down the side of her face. “You need anythin’, darlin’?”

“Right now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Just you, and you’re already here.”

Logan really hated this expression and thought it sounded stupid, but that made his heart sing. He kissed Jean’s forehead and tucked her back to his chest. “Y’know I’ll do anythin’ to help you, you just gotta ask.”

“I know,” she nodded. She idly played with the wiry black hair on his cheek, which he hadn’t been properly maintaining after he’d left. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothin’.”

Jean snuggled up to him and he felt the change in her when she fell back to sleep. Left alone with his thoughts again, Logan’s mind was fixed only on taking care of her. He didn’t really know where the line was right now - she was so comfortable with his presence, much more than in a standard friendship as far as he knew. How could she be after what had been done to her? Was it just a kind of hero-worship because he’d hauled Sabertooth away and beat the living fuck out of that bastard? What if he slipped and called her “baby” out loud and not just in his head?

The top of Jean’s head was one thing, but there was no way Logan would risk an _actual_ kiss. But what if she tried to kiss _him?_ Should he let her? God, he wanted to… but maybe she’d freak out about it after the fact. What if he ended up doing something wrong and she got scared of him? He knew he couldn’t take it if that happened. She was the only good thing he’d ever had.

The anxiety gripped his mind for several hours until the sky became light again through the window. Jean woke up when his internal clock said 7:09, right on time, and for at least ten minutes they just stayed like that. They didn’t say anything, just cuddling up against each other. Logan pressed his fingers gently into her back between her shoulder blades and rubbed in circles. She’d already been pretty relaxed, but now she was almost totally limp in his arms, breathing lightly into the crook of his neck. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this calm. She was safe in his embrace, and nothing could get her without literally going through him first.

“What are you thinking about?” Jean wondered, running a palm down his arm.

“You,” Logan murmured honestly. “Keepin’ you safe.” A nervous breath in - he might as well get it over with. “Look, Jeannie, I know I ain’t so good at hidin’ stuff from you most’a the time. You gotta a’ready know that… y’know. But, uh, you never made me do nothin’ if it weren’t my choice. So I want you to know I ain’t gonna do that, neither. Just gonna take care’a you the best way I can, even if it means you decide you don’t want me around.”

Jean was quiet for a moment, sparking worry in him again.

“Do you remember falling asleep in your truck and dreaming about me?”

“Yeah, how’d you…”

“Logan, why would I find you in your sleep and ask you to come back if I didn’t want you here?”

“Wait, that was… on purpose? You heard what I said?” he choked out.

This drew a chuckle from Jean: “Relax. You didn’t tell me anything compromising.”

“Prob’ly would’a come back anyway. Didn’t know how much it hurts to be away from you until after I a’ready left. Just wanna be where you are, darlin’.” Logan didn’t know why he was saying this, but there was no way for him to stop now and everything came pouring out. “You’re so good to me, even though I ain’t worth it, but the way you been helpin’ me… it makes me wanna be worth it. Make myself better, I guess, ’cause I wanna be somethin’ you deserve. Even if you don’t… even if you don’t look at me the same way.”

After his lengthy and poorly-worded confession, he couldn’t help but start tensing up again when Jean was quiet for a very long time. Fuck, _fuck,_ he should’ve waited a little longer. What the hell was he thinking, telling her all this when she was _raped by Sabertooth yesterday?_ God fucking dammit, he was stupid.

And then her fingers were caressing his jaw through his beard, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“You _are_ worth it, Logan,” Jean informed him.

Both of her soft hands were on his cheeks, angling his head so that she could kiss him.

He couldn’t breathe suddenly; was this real? This was a lot like the dreams he’d sometimes gotten (after he’d woken up from fear and then gone back to sleep again, of course) that made him need cold showers before breakfast. Speaking of which. _So_ not appropriate right now, even if Jean was the one who’d initiated the kiss. Could he be a bigger fucking pig? And _Jesus,_ he still couldn’t breathe and it was making him dizzy with oxygen deprivation.

Logan thought he was on the verge of passing out when they finally broke contact. He’d managed to keep his hands safely on her upper arms and even kept from squeezing too hard, but Jean was still flush with his body. He knew she could feel the raging hard-on under his sweats.

“Sorry,” he muttered, grimacing and scooting backwards from her. “It don’t listen to me most of the time.”

Surprisingly, she chuckled a little at that, which made him feel better. There wasn’t any trace of fear or discomfort in her scent, so he knew she trusted him not to hurt her and it made him hate himself slightly less.

“Stop being so ashamed of yourself all the time,” Jean insisted. He must’ve been projecting without realizing it. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Mph,” Logan grunted, not agreeing with her but trying to avoid an argument. “Wanna go back to this part? I liked this,” he murmured before kissing her again.

He let Jean roll him onto his back, resting on his chest with her fingers in his messy hair and his arms encircling her. Aside from his dick, which refused to behave itself as always, he didn’t feel like this moment had anything to do with sex. Logan was more vulnerable than he’d ever been before, laying himself bare and offering everything in his soul to her. Jean owned him, now… but he was perfectly okay with it.

“You want me to go get you somethin’ to eat?” Logan asked after they’d come up for air again. “I’ll be the one runnin’ around gettin’ stuff for a change.”

Jean smiled. “Okay, thanks. Just remember I can’t eat as much as you.”

He snorted in amusement, then rolled her off him and got out of the bed. He straightened out his shirt and sweatpants before going out into the hall, a quick check of the air’s scent telling him most of the other adults had already gone down to the kitchen. Good. He didn’t want to risk a confrontation where Jeannie could hear him.

“Logan!” someone shout behind him suddenly, and when he whipped around he saw Rogue and Kitty running up the hall to him.

“Hey, kid,” he smirked. Kitty slapped him high-five and Rogue was allowed a brief hug. “Where’s the loud one?”

“Sleeping in,” Kitty grinned. “She doesn’t have class until noon on Thursdays.”

“You can eat with us if you want,” the other girl offered as the trio began descending the stairs.

“Rain check,” Logan shrugged. “You guys… hear what happened yesterday?”

“A little,” Rogue frowned. “I knew Sabertooth got locked up in the danger room and that SHIELD is going to pick him up tomorrow. I guess he hurt Dr. Grey, huh?”

“Yeah. She’ll be okay eventually, but, uh, I’mma be takin’ care’a her for once. Y’know, bring her food an' keep Scooter from pesterin’ her.”

“You should be her boyfriend,” Kitty teased, giving him a light poke on his upper arm. “You two looked so cute that one time sitting outside in the grass.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I ain’t cute, kid, an’ if you call me that again I’ll climb you up a tree an’ leave you there until I get bored.”

Rogue laughed. “You climb trees?”

“Yeah, if I can find one that ain’t gonna snap under me.” He frowned and changed the subject. “So what kinda crap is the ‘healthy’ food? I don’t know nothin’ ’bout this stuff, so you two gotta help me out.”

They entered the cafeteria and got in line, each grabbing a tray. Logan didn’t need one for himself; his breakfast food, which was several pounds of bacon and sausage, was in the kitchen fridge.

“Okay. So a small bowl of that yogurt,” Rogue began. “No, _small,_ just a couple scoops. I think I’ve seen her putting berries in her yogurt before, so get some of those.”

Logan tossed some raspberries into the dish. “A’right, now what?”

“One of those ‘everything’ bagels,” Kitty pointed, “but make sure it’s toasted and then grab a couple things of cream cheese. Does Dr. Grey drink juice with breakfast?” she wondered, turning to her cohort.

“No, coffee,” Logan shook his head. “But from the kitchen. She told me once the stuff they got here ain’t strong enough or somethin’.”

“See what I mean, though?” Kitty muttered, obviously addressing Rogue and not him. “He pretends to be all mean and cranky, but look what he’s doing now. They’re already so sweet around each other.”

 _Heh, you don’t even know, kid,_ Logan thought to himself, burying a smirk and not pointing out that he’d heard. The girls put a little sleeve of plastic utensils onto the tray, then sent him off to get the coffee. He sniffed around in the fridge for a minute, determining that it was the non-dairy artificial creamer with Splenda that she used. Yuck. Logan wasn’t much of a coffee person anyway, but the crap people put in it was just fucking gross half the time. Still, he knew by scent exactly what she liked in hers, which was some of this crap and then some of that hazelnut crap that he doubted had any actual hazelnut in it.

Stirring and tossing the spoon into the sink basin, Logan retrieved one of the plastic grocery bags they saved for some reason and tossed his morning protein ration into it. He hung it off his right wrist by his watch so that both hands were free for the tray. Surprisingly, when he made it back to her nest, she’d actually put on real clothes. He didn’t know how to feel about that - she was supposed to take it easy today.

“Brought your chow, darlin’,” Logan smirked, setting the tray on Jean’s desk.

“Thanks.” She sat in the rolling chair and took a sip of coffee, surprise lighting up on her face. “Wow, this is perfect. How did you know the way I make it?”

“Remembered how it smells, then just put the stuff in until it matched up,” he shrugged as he settled on the edge of the bed and began ripping open the pack of raw bacon. Several people had commented on how disgusting it was for him to consume uncooked meat, but he didn’t give a shit then and he still didn’t. “How ’bout the rest'a it?”

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my meal habits,” Jean chuckled.

“Had a little help,” Logan admitted. “I don’t gotta clue ’bout eatin’ healthy, so Rogue an' Kitty gave me some pointers.”

“You actually took advice from someone other than me?”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one takin’ care’a _you_ now. Gotta do it right, darlin’. An’ if it makes you feel better, I threatened them after I got called ‘cute.’”

“How did _that_ come up?” Jean snorted before a bite of yogurt.

“They told me I should be your boyfriend. I didn’t say nothin’ to them 'bout it, though. Ain’t my call. Don’t wanna rush you or nothin’.”

“I think you’d make a _great_ boyfriend,” she countered, watching him through the corner of her eye.

Logan raised an eyebrow and his mouth quirked into an almost-smile. “I _know_ you ain’t implyin’ anythin’ by sayin’ that,” he told her, folding his arms across his chest.

“Of course not.” Jean was looking at him for real now.

“You tryin’a flirt with me, darlin’?” he chuckled, getting to his feet to take a few steps towards her and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe a little,” she smiled. He watched her stand and cross the room, too. “But I think you like it.”

Logan freed his hands again as her slender arms wrapped around his torso. Something about how Jean had to stand on her toes slightly to kiss him was adorable, and - wait, now he was thinking words like “adorable?” Damn, he was getting soft…

“How’re you feelin’, better now you ate?” he asked eventually.

“A little, yeah,” she affirmed. “How about you? I know you ‘switched’ yesterday…”

He shook his head. “Don’t matter how I’m doin’ right now. I ain’t the one he went after. Just kind’a think you should have the other doc take a look at you, make sure the scratches ain’t gettin’ infected or somethin’.”

“I’ll be fine in a few days once I’m rested up.” Jean’s voice was oddly insistent and one of the muscles in her face ticced. “It’s okay, Logan. You don’t have to worry about me.”

That told him everything he needed to know and he shook his head.

“Jeannie, look. I know I ain’t the smartest man there is, but I ain’t exactly stupid neither an' your scent’s tellin’ me that you’re lyin’.” Logan carefully kept his voice even and caring. “An’ I remember you tellin’ me you thought I was makin’ a bad choice when I wanted to make my own nest out in the woods. I kinda feel like that’s what you’re doin’. You don’t wanna make me worry so you’re gonna shut me out an’ not tell me what’s goin’ on. You never made me do nothin’, an’ I ain’t gonna make you do nothin’ neither, but I think you’re makin’ a mistake. Don’t shut me out, darlin’. Let me make it better.”

Logan brushed Jean’s hair back from her face and lightly stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. Her expression didn’t change, but he could still tell she was choking back sobs.

“I’m not trying to push you away,” she managed to say, closing her eyes.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re always strong for everyone but you don’t gotta be strong right now. You don’t gotta be there for nobody, an’ I’mma be strong for you now, a’right? I’m here, darlin’, an’ I’ll do whatever it takes to make it better.”

Somehow they ended up sitting on the floor, Logan cradling Jean and stroking her hair as lovingly as he knew how while she cried into his undershirt. He felt sick that she’d been hurt this way, and if he had to he’d sit like this until long after his ass went numb in order to comfort her.

_I’ll make it better. Make everythin’ better for you, baby, no matter what I gotta do. I’mma fix everythin’._


	13. Crumpled Answers

“You need somthin’, kid?” Logan asked without turning to look. He’d caught Rogue’s scent the second the elevator had started to open. He took a swig from the bottle of whisky in his fist and stayed leaning his weight into the metal wall with his left shoulder. “I ain’t in the mood for jaw-jackin’ right now, but if you gotta get somethin’ out I’ll still listen.”

“I was looking for you deliberately,” she shrugged, bracing herself against the opposite side of the hall. Intrigued, Logan turned so that his back was holding his weight and he could see her. “I don’t like Sabertooth, but when they dragged him in yesterday evening… the guy looked like you went nuclear on him.”

“Yeah, well, you think he didn’t fuckin’ deserve what I gave him?” Logan snapped, tossing back another gulp of booze. “I guess he heals too, ’cause I didn’t kill him. But that’s what I was goin’ for. End'a discussion.”

“I’ve read his rap sheet, you know. I just wanted to talk to you because… I’m really scared of him. And I’m scared of what I think he did to Jean.”

“That ain’t any’a your business. An’ I ain’t the one who can tell you, neither. So if you wanna know, you gotta ask her.”

“He’s a serial rapist who gets off on hurting women,” Rogue growled. “Plus he used to work for Magneto, and that mutant-supremacist almost _killed_ me once during one of his plots.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. More calmly, she added, “I just wanted to ask you to finish him off.”

Logan snorted.

“Would’a yesterday, but it don’t work that way. Clawed out half the bastard’s guts an’ tore clean through his throat, an’ that didn’t do him in. The fuck else you expect me to do? Might go to where he is anyway just so I can personally introduce his pecker to my fuckin’ claws, but that ain’t gonna kill him, neither. I don’t wanna talk ’bout this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you mad. I just thought you might feel better knowing we all hate that piece of shit.”

“Ain’t mad at you, kid.” It was the truth. “Just dunno what to do right now, that’s all.” Rogue was the only person besides Jean that he’d ever make that admission to. But she was from the labs, too, so she got it. “Can’t make it so it didn’t happen, can’t fuckin’ kill the guy that did it. Can’t do nothin’ to fix this an’ I just gotta guess what she needs from me. Like… fuck, y’know, I’m out here 'cause she wanted me to wait outside. Fuckin’ hate the infirmary, but I would’a gone in with her. She didn’t want me to. Hank’s checkin’ her now…”

“Jean really loves you, Logan. I don’t think she slept at all when you were gone. When I started dating Bobby, I felt like I had to be perfect and all that crap because I didn’t think he’d like me otherwise. She doesn’t want you to think she’s anything but perfect, so she’s going to try really hard not to let you see her at weak moments.”

“But I a’ready know she ain’t perfect, an’ I don’t give a shit. I seen her get pissy with students sometimes if they pushed her too much, and right before I left she blasted Slim through a door. Course she ain’t perfect, wouldn’t be Jean if she was.”

“Yeah,” Rogue smiled. “So you just need to tell her that. Probably constantly, but that’s neither here nor there. She needs you.”

Logan sighed. “Guess you’re right… hey, you’re seventeen, how’d you get so wise an’ shit all of a sudden?”

“Well, for one thing I’m eighteen now,” Rogue smirked, “and for another thing there’s more than just me in here.” She tapped her temple with two fingers. “But like I said, Jean needs you, probably as much as you need her. And don’t do what a lot of us idiots do and think it’s all about grand gestures like in lame rom-coms, okay? The little things are most important. Like bringing her breakfast this morning.”

Logan recovered enough to pick on her. “I’m so fuckin’ insulted that you think I watch rom-coms, kid. I oughta kick your ass for that.”

“You love me,” Rogue teased back, earning herself a snort that was actually Logan trying not to laugh. “What?”

“You pushin’ your luck,” he smirked, taking a long pull of liquor. “Some day I’mma beat you up to teach you a lesson.”

“You pretend you’re such a hard-ass, but I bet you’re really a sucker for cuddling.”

Before Logan could make another empty threat, the door to medical slid open and Jean emerged into the hall. He let her come to him and hugged her once she got close enough, feeling his skin tingle when their bodies made contact. Once again he hated himself for loving the feel of her in his arms because this might not have happened without the unspeakably horrible incident out in the woods.

Logan took her hand in one of his big fists in the elevator, wanting to keep holding her how he’d been doing in the hall but getting the impression that she’d feel trapped if he did. His fingers stayed tangled with Jean’s as they went into the kitchen, though he was forced to let go so she could fix herself another mug of coffee. He could sense she was in pretty low spirits after the exam, but also that she was starting to acknowledge what had happened (even if it was obviously only on the smallest level).

“You wanna talk to Chuck, or just go back to layin’ around?” Logan inquired, leaning against the counter beside her and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. God, he loved her hair. It was a struggle not to play with it more than he already was. “You want me to shut up an’ go away for a while?”

“No,” Jean shook her head. “I don’t want you to go.” She pressed herself into his side and he slid his arm across her back. “I just don’t want to have to think about anything right now.”

“Okay,” Logan nodded. “You want me to watch somethin’ with you or get you a book or somethin’?”

“I think I just want to go back to sleep for a while.”

“After three cups of coffee?” He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly, giving her a light squeeze. “How ’bout this, you do… whatever it is with your laptop that makes it show movies without puttin' in a disk, an’ then you can fall asleep on me when the coffee stops workin'. Then I’ll wake you up for dinner later.”

“That sounds good,” Jean agreed after a second and another sip. She finally looked at him. “Hey, you never answered me earlier.”

“’Bout what?”

“How are you feeling right now?”

“Depends,” Logan shrugged. “Which one’a me are we talkin’ ’bout, here?”

“Both.”

“Well, I’m feelin’ like some ironic punishin’ is goin’ on for me right now. Fuckin’ hate how I wanted this before… y’know, you bein’ close to me, snugglin’ up when you’re sleepin’ an’ bein’ all warm an’ comfy. An’ when you’re kissin’ me. ’Cause now I got all that, after what that fucker did. Would’a gave up any chance of havin’ you, ever, if it would’a stopped that from happenin’.”

“And what about the other half of your mind?”

“The Wolverine’s just a fuckin’ animal, darlin’. He don’t think too much ’bout anythin’. Just knows you’re hurtin’ and wants to protect you. Thinks you’re my… thinks you’re my mate. He wants to make sure nobody else gets near you, that you belong to me. Prob’ly sounds pretty fuckin’ creepy the way I’m sayin’ it.”

“It doesn’t,” Jean countered. “I know what you mean. It’s just the way your instincts express love, that’s all. You want to make sure I’m safe and comfortable and fed.”

“Yeah. I’mma make sure you’re always safe now, darlin’. Nothin’ else is gonna hurt you if I got somthin’ to say ’bout it.”

Logan would’ve said more, but he picked up the sound and scent of Scott approaching. _Fuck._ That uptight piece of shit would give him no end of hell for this, he was sure. Predictably, even though his eyes were permanently obscured, the team leader somehow worked up a rather expressive scowl in Logan’s direction.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left again yet,” Scott snarked.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ wish, Slim. You keep openin’ your mouth at me too much, I’mma start expectin' blowjobs.”

“Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner first?”

“Heh, you go down on me, Scooter, an’ you ain’t gonna be able to fit nothin’ else,” Logan sneered back, resisting the urge to free his claws and let Wolverine take over. He gently squished Jean a little tighter to his flank. “C’mon, baby, I’m gettin’ sick of dealin’ with this fuckwit.”

Logan tried to shove Scott on the way by, but was stopped when one of the other man’s fingers jabbed sharply into his sternum. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you can’t just take everything you need from us, vanish, and expect us to-”

“Look, bub, I ain’t exactly best known for my patience, an’ if you don’t get outta my fuckin’ face right now I’mma redecorate yours with my claws, you understand?”

Using his palms, Logan shoved hard against the team leader’s sweater-covered chest to send the X-Man sprawling backwards until he bounced off the wall and landed on his ass. He took Jean’s hand again and led her back up to the third floor, struggling to ignore Wolverine grumbling at the back of his head.

**_Rival. Assert dominance. We are alpha, not him._ **

_A’ready asserted dominance. Now shut up. I really ain’t in the mood today._

**_Use claws, maybe lightly cripple. Teach him his place in the pack. Guard mate from him. Scratch the eyes out, the eyes are dangerous-_ **

_A’right, I fuckin’ warned you over there,_ Logan spat before coming to a dead stop in the hall, turning, and smashing his face into the nearest available surface. The crumpled indent in the sheetrock grew every time he repeated the action until someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him to the floor. Jean sat behind him, leaning into his back and grabbing his wrists.

“Logan, stop hurting yourself,” she practically begged. “He’s not real, he can’t do anything to you. You _are_ Wolverine, he’s just one of your personality traits and he’s not actually talking to you.” He just sat stupidly for a moment as she held him there. “Logan? Logan, can you hear me? Baby, please say something…”

The world left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a little darker than I thought it would, but I guess that's okay given the circumstances. I also didn't start writing this story intending Scott to be such a dick, but in the context of this alternate reality it makes more sense this way.


	14. Thank You For Loving Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is pretty much smut. You've been warned. (Even though I know you'll read it anyway :D)

When Logan woke up, he didn’t really know how he’d gotten back into his room, but he must’ve done it himself because he was sprawled face-down on top of the bedding with his boots still on. Jean would’ve gotten him in with her telekinesis, carefully on his back and tucked in under the covers with his foot gear and belt removed. What the hell happened?

Growling and wiping a string of drool from the corner of his mouth, Logan rolled to his feet and stretched his entire body. Actually, he could smell Jeannie in his clothes, so she must’ve been near him recently. The last thing he remembered was crashing his head into the wall because the other creature sharing his mind was tormenting him. He tossed a clean undershirt and flannel on without changing his pants or socks, then went the three steps down the hall to her room and knocked.

“You in there, darlin’?”

“Yeah, come on in,” she called.

When he pushed it open, she seemed (much to his relief) a lot calmer than when he’d last seen her. She even managed to smile at him a little when he came in.

“Don’t remember anythin’ after tryin’a get _him_ to shut up, what’d I miss?”

“Wolverine took over for the past two days. I’m not surprised you blacked out, actually. It’s pretty common for someone with dissociation not to remember when they switch over.”

“Fuck, he was in charge for _two days?_ That ain’t good, baby. He does what he wants and don’t give a shit who it hurts.”

“Well, mostly he just stayed in here letting me pet him unless Scott was nearby. When that happened he would stand in the doorway and growl, but he didn’t really do anything else. He doesn’t talk, either. It reminded me of when we first brought you here,” Jean shrugged, not seeming overly concerned. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, really. Both versions of you have always been sweet to me.”

“Hmph,” Logan grunted, crossing the floor to sit beside her on the edge of her bed. She smelled like she’d showered a few minutes ago, making the scent of her skin fresh and mild. “I’m sorry, darlin’. S’posed to be _me_ takin’ care'a  _you_ for once, but I didn’t even make it through a whole day…”

Jean turned and hugged him, pulling him as close as she could with them both sitting. Logan didn’t hesitate to wrap her in his arms, nuzzling into the long hair draped over her neck. Her smell was intoxicating, filling his senses and making his eyes too heavy to stay open. It told him she felt secure in his embrace, that she liked feeling his pulse from where her cheek rested on the side of his neck. That she was glad Logan was in charge again and not the Wolverine, but… but not because she was scared of Wolverine. ( _She should be,_ he thought.) She was glad because she knew _he_ hated that side of him having control, and she wanted him to be happy.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeannie murmured against his skin.

“You,” Logan smiled, kissing the corner of her jaw. He leaned her down so that they were snuggled up on the bed, resting on their sides. “I like makin’ you feel safe like this, havin’ you all cuddly an’ warm next to me. Don’t know what I did to get this, neither. You’re so… dammit, you’re just so _lovable,_ ” he decided, which made her chuckle a little. “All you ever done is take care of me, you’re so gentle an’ selfless an’ stuff like that, the way I ain’t. An’ you’re so smart, but you don’t talk down to me the way Slim or Chuck does sometimes. There ain’t a bad bone in your body, darlin’, an’ I love that ’bout you. ’Cause you’re everythin’ I ain’t.”

“Ah, it’s the _deep_ thoughts,” Jeannie teased playfully, touching his beard. He had too much beard, he thought. Need to shave soon. “Is there anything else?”

“Mmm, you like hearin’ me flatter you,” Logan chuckled, trailing his fingers along her spine. “It’s okay. I know you think you gotta be perfect, baby, but you don’t. Don’t gotta perfect for nobody, not even me. Lemme be strong for you sometimes, ’cause you a'ready been so strong for me an’ there ain’t no way for me to thank you enough. Don’t gotta be everythin’ you think all’a us need all the time. An’ y’know I wouldn’t want you perfect anyway, ’cause that wouldn’t be you. A’ready love you so much I could fuckin’ explode.”

Logan could smell the tears in her eyes, but she was still smiling at him. Happy crying? Was that a real thing? He gently swiped them away with his thumbs.

“Don’t always understand everythin’ you say or do for me, Jeannie, but you’re always so beautiful doin’ it. An’ I don’t just mean how you look, neither, but just… the way you _are,_ you just care so much, an’ that’s beautiful, too. Puttin’ me an’ everyone else first an’ not doin’ nothin’ for yourself, makes me wanna do things like this. Just holdin’ you like this so that you’re comfy an’ safe. Don’t remember, obviously, but I don’t think I ever thought like this 'bout anyone else before. Ever loved.”

He punctuated his statement by bending down his head to plant a tender kiss on the bridge of her nose. Jean tilted up after a second to catch his lips with hers, making his chest tingle pleasantly.

Her voice in his mind: _I love you, Logan. Thank you._

Jesus fuck, that made his nerves catch fire. He kept his grip on himself, barely, and even though he maintained the uncharacteristic gentleness he still found himself kissing her more passionately. Jean’s palms on his cheeks, the taste of her on his mouth, pressing against his chest and stomach with every breath, and _fuck_ he was so hard it ached. No, Logan would keep control. She wasn’t just a warm place to bury his cock in, despite it straining against his jeans like it had a mind of its own.

Jean must’ve been projecting to him on purpose, because Logan could feel her emotions washing through him - she was every bit as turned on by him as he was by her, trusting him completely that he wouldn’t hurt her. He smiled inwardly at that, because no, he wouldn’t dream of bringing her any harm. Under everything else, though, a sliver of some vile and unclean feeling, because the last person who touched her had been Sabertooth. But that actually made Jean want him more, he was surprised to discover, because he could make that go away. Logan had already cleaned her after the fact, better than she could’ve done on her own, so she felt like he could make her new again, untainted.

Why the hell did that make him feel good?

 _'Cause she loves me,_ he realized. _Told her I’d be strong for her, an’ this's how she needs me. She_ needs _me. It ain’t just me needin’ her no more._

Logan pulled back from Jean slightly, enough to talk. “You sure you want this, darlin’? Won’t do nothin’ you don’t want.” He wouldn’t do anything without asking first, either.

“Yeah,” she nodded, slipping her hands into his undershirt. _I need you to get the rest of him out of me._ It wasn’t spoken, but Logan knew that’s what she was thinking even though she wasn’t projecting anymore.

“Mph,” he grunted, tensing slightly at her feeling along his muscled torso. He was a little ticklish there, but right now he liked it. Logan shed his flannel and broke away long enough to pull off his undershirt, already breathing heavier and sweating a little. Damn, if he didn’t get a grip he’d probably go off in his jeans like an amateur.

Jean let him break away long enough that he could yank off his boots and socks, then he lay back on the bed to pull her over him. Logan didn’t want her to feel pinned in by him. He lightly dragged his hands down her sides, feeling the softness and curviness and _Jesus_ she was so delicious even before he’d removed a single article of clothing from her slim body. The tiny shards of his brain that had survived from before the lab were screaming about how he hadn’t gotten any in almost _17 YEARS_ and fuck if that didn’t explain why he felt so out of control.

But this wasn’t about him, Logan kept at the front of his thoughts. His dick wasn’t in charge. Slowly, sensually, he peeled her shirt up to her shoulders and slid it off. He grimaced, groaning into her mouth when he started kneading her breasts and bucked convulsively without meaning to. Fuck, _fuck,_ Jean undoing his belt and then his pants. She squeezed his prick once, just once, and he couldn’t stop from throwing his head back into the mattress, spasming while he made a mess inside his boxers.

Logan moaned wordlessly in protest when she rolled away until he saw that she had only done so to shuck the rest of her clothing. Jean pulled away his, too, and once she began kissing him again it was all of thirty seconds before he could feel himself getting hard again. God damn, she’d gotten him off just with kisses and a single grope. Well, that still wasn’t the point, Logan reminded himself, rolling her onto her back and deliberately slipping downwards. He teased her skin with his teeth and then licked the light pink spots it left until there was a damp trail down her sternum and belly.

The first little flick against that bundle of nerves. It was only the very tip of his tongue, too, like a test, but Jean shuddered and Logan was insanely pleased with himself that he’d heard her breath hitch, too. He was already back to full attention at this; the smoothness, taste, scent were all perfect. Soft, dark curls tickling the end of his nose. She was so fucking wet for him, he thought she’d probably been more than ready a few minutes ago, but again that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t about him, no matter how much his cock was leaking at the feeling of her thighs brushing his ears and messy hair.

Jean was close, he knew. She was shaking with the movements of his tongue on her clit, especially now with his strong hands squeezing her legs in time with them. Then he let go, stroking lines up her hip and slipping a finger into her. That did it - she was convulsing, pushing against his face and gasping his name. That boosted his ego a little, knowing he could get her to melt for him like this.

Logan paused briefly to let her come down a little, but not quite all the way. She was _almost_ back to normal when he added a second finger, curling them slightly as he stroked the inner walls of her body. He couldn’t help an arrogant smirk as he wiped his face on a corner of the sheet, pressing the pad of his thumb lightly against the overly-sensitive nub and slowly rubbing circles into it.

There was no way Logan would last very long once he was actually inside her. So he’d just have to bring Jean to the edge again, and then he’d make her come so hard that she screamed. A third finger, now, which drew a groan that he thought was supposed to be actual words. He had a good reason, though, beyond just wanting her to make noise. If he didn’t get her ready like this, he’d probably hurt her a lot. A vague memory surfaced of some slut in his old life asking how he “fit all that into such tight jeans,” which he’d laughed off before fucking her hard against a wall.

Logan couldn’t wait anymore, and by the way Jean was clenching around his fingers it was pretty clear she couldn’t either. Watching her hungrily, he crawled back upwards until the end of his dick was touching and the slight pressure into her opening was starting to push back his foreskin. He balanced his weight on one elbow and started sucking and licking at the base of her neck, gripping himself in his free hand. And then they were both squeezing their eyes shut and groaning when he inserted his prick and slid into her with one motion.

“Hgrn,” Logan growled, clenching his fingers into the sheet and holding still so that she could adjust while he regained control. Probably because of how thick he was but also since she hadn’t seen any action lately either, but, _fuck,_ she was tight. Jean’s ankles hooked around his knees, trying to grip him, pull him closer. He slid out some and then the next short thrust had him buried to the hilt in her liquid heat, making her whimper in ecstasy while he cried out sharply into her skin.

After that he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, plunging repeatedly like a piston with an overwhelming surge of passion and need. Her inner muscles gripping onto him and then clamping down hard, trapping him while she howled in the throes of her orgasm with her fingernails digging into his arms. It was too much, now, and he came so hard that he couldn’t even scream while a galaxy of stars exploded behind his eyes.

Logan thought he blacked out for a couple minutes after that, and when he came to he was still breathing a little harder than normal and he was coated in sweat across every inch of skin. Jean was more or less crushed under him after his arms were shaking too hard to hold him up, so he rolled off her with a rumble of unwillingness to separate. Their sweaty hands met and twined together.

“So how’d I do, baby?” he grinned, scrubbing his face with his palm pointlessly.

“I’m really glad for your healing factor, because there’s no way you got that good being careful and then I’d have to worry about catching something,” she snickered.

Logan couldn’t help but laugh in reply. “Heh, yeah. Bet you’re feelin’ real good now, though.”

“Mm-hm,” Jean agreed, shifting onto her side so that she could curl up in the crook of his arm. “I don’t think anyone else got me to climax twice in a row.”

“Mmm, next time I’ll shoot for three,” he grinned, kissing her forehead. “Besides, I kinda owed you. Any other time this would’a been embarrassing, but I wouldn’a blew a load in my pants like that if I didn’t know you wanted me so much, darlin’.”

“Ah, so I should be _proud_ of myself.”

“Yep. I always thought you’d be a good lay, but _damn,_ you were fuckin’ amazin’. Don’t think I ever came so hard before.”

“Well, crap, how can I outdo myself next time?”

“Hey, you don’t gotta make me get like that every time, Jeannie. Just knowin’ there’ll _be_ a next time's better'n the actual gettin' off.” Logan carded his fingers through her hair, which had gotten hopelessly tangled, starting to feel tender towards her again and letting his expression soften. “Thank you for this, darlin’. I love known’ I can make you feel this good.”

“You’re welcome,” Jean smiled back. “Thank _you,_ too. Not just for the sex, either. For loving me as much as you do.”

Logan met her for a long but gentle kiss. “You don’t ever gotta thank me for that, baby. Comes free with the fill-up.”

“That’s a terrible joke,” she snorted, giving one of his pecs a light slap.

“It’s true though, ain’t it?” he smirked. “You barely fit all’a me.”

“Well, that’s just a hardship I’ll have to live with,” Jean teased. She planted a kiss on his temple. “I meant it, though. I love having you here with me.”

Logan nodded. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out a good way to finish this narrative, so I'm just going to leave it here. I guess there *could* be a sequel since it's open-ended, but if I write one it probably won't be for a long time. As always, comments/kudos are appreciated, and thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my video, but I like the way it was put together and basically sums up the feeling I was trying to go for in this narrative. Jean and Logan are friends for a very long time in the comics, so I wanted to give them some of that before the really dark shit happened. Again, not my video, but sums up how I want this pairing to feel in the fic:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WK-gnIDy5Y


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